Affinity
by ocha-no-deathscythe
Summary: "Oh the shark has pretty teeth, dear, and he shows 'em, pearly white. Just a jackknife has Mackheath, dear, and he keeps it outta sight." Cleaning up an old mess of Shibusen's would be a lot easier on Soul and Maka if they weren't trying to figure out their relationship in the process. SoMa, implied TsuStar, partially inspired by Mack the Knife and the Threepenny Opera.
1. Ora

Author Notes: Maka's thinking song as heard by Soul in this chapter is "Ora" by Ludovico Einaudi. I own none of the characters in Soul Eater, nor do I lay any claim to rights over any of the music mentioned herein.

* * *

The resonance felt…different.

She supposed it was silly to expect that the sensation would be the same, but Maka had never really given the subject as much thought as she should have. She had always expected that when her soul came into contact with another, that there would be that same caressing feel that came from connecting with Soul.

Team resonance was another matter entirely. That was all about matching everyone to a common wavelength, bringing them to the cadence and tempo of a unit. There was more compromise, more awkward shuffling and fitting into place. And it had always been directed by the familiar call of Soul's music.

Individual resonance, however, was something that Maka had always associated with a sort of intimacy. When her soul called out for Soul's, his responded in a heady rush, much like protective arms locking themselves within her own…or perhaps more like the fingers of two hands threading together. Resonating with Soul came with a feeling of completion and security.

With Tsubaki, however, it felt more akin to having a warm, supportive presence behind her. Maka felt the pressure to take the lead, to channel that gentle presence into the fierce storm of metal she had so often seen in her friend's hands. A small chuckle ran through Maka, rippling through the link. Tsubaki responded with a nonverbal cue of interest.

_It's nothing. I had just now realized how perfectly matched you and Black Star are. _Maka's response was more thought than words, but Tsubaki understood nonetheless, which the meister was very thankful for. She and Tsubaki were training (at Maka's request) in a rounded copse of trees, Soul and Black Star both lounging just at the edge of the clearing. Maka did not like the thought of having to stroke the assassin meister's massive ego any more than necessary.

_Thank you, _came Tsubaki's response, tinged with a sort of blush. Maka grinned a bit and sent a few teasing feelings the weapon's way. Tsubaki tamped down on them quickly. Her reply was calm. _I've always known that we were, but it's clearer now that I am resonating with you. With Black Star, I'm always following his lead, giving him the solid foundation necessary to keep him strong. But with you..._

_Soul and I work in tandem,_ Maka replied. _It's a give and take. Neither of us really take the lead. _

_Yes,_ Tsubaki trilled. Through the link, Maka could feel the sensation of warm approval. _You're perhaps even better matched than Black Star and I in that way. _

It was Maka's turn to blush. _I don't really know about that, Tsubaki…._

"OI!" A boisterous voice rang out from across the clearing, causing Tsubaki's side of the soul link to vibrate. "Are you gonna do anything, or are you just gonna sit there and whisper to one another? You couldn't live up to the man who will surpass god, of course, but I expected at least some excitement from watching you two resonate." Maka blushed, caught in the midst of what might be construed as girl talk during a training session. "If you need it, the great Black Star will once again resonate with Soul to give you a sparring partner. Now that he is a Deathscythe, he will surely be able to match my greatness!"

"NO!" The response was a chorus, coming from both weapons present and the blushing meister. Soul's was perhaps the most vehement, horror etched in his features as he imagined being gracelessly manhandled by the exuberant ninja. Again.

Maka straightened, her fingers flexing along the handles of Tsubaki's _kusarigama_ form. She was much heavier than Maka had expected her to be, and the dual nature of the weapon form felt off to Maka, who was so accustomed to the long balance of a scythe in her hands. She gave an experimental swing, cleaving the air with her friend's blade. The chain jingled lightly in the air.

Tsubaki felt Maka's frustration and attempted to compensate, gently adding more of her influence through the soul link. Instead of helping, though, this only seemed to make the weapon heavier in Maka's hands.

_Err…Tsubaki…maybe the ninjatou would be a better option for me? I don't know how well I'm suited to double blades. _Nodding slightly, Tsubaki shifted herself, the hefty weight of her _kusarigama_ transforming into the lighter _ninjatou_.

Maka struck out lightly once again, rewarded this time with a less-clumsy swishing of the blade against the air. Black Star didn't sound too impressed, however, when he shouted across the clearing. " "Faster! You'll never be a good assassin with moves that slow!"

At this, Maka's composure cracked. Frustration welling in her, she tossed the blade aside and strode towards her friends. Tsubaki transformed in time to land somewhat gracefully, though her knee dug into the earth with more force than was comfortable. She hastened to brush herself off and catch up with the angry scythe meister, emanating waves of consolation as her friends came toe to toe.

"Oh yeah? Well at least I can resonate with Tsubaki without hurting her. Remember how much Soul bled when you nearly forced your wavelength into him? You're lucky to have a weapon who is so reserved, or else you'd be worthless in a fight!" Maka's voice was less angry than her incendiary words implied, but her fingers were curled in her palm, making Soul sit up a little more straight. He knew her posture and expressions; his meister was prepping for a fight. Black Star continued to grin, face arrogant as he stared Maka down.

"Soul just couldn't handle the godly me. Like I said, if I tried right now-" Black Star reached out in Soul's direction and the weapon flinched away with a scowl.

"Don't even start, you moron. I'm not letting you touch me again." His tone was sullen and his posture relaxed to its normal slouch, but the white-haired weapon had nevertheless pulled himself to his feet. With a couple lazy steps, he aligned himself with his meister, shooting an almost amused glance towards Tsubaki. She flitted about nervously, not certain if stepping into the argument would make it better or worse. Soul coughed out something like a chuckle and clapped Maka on the shoulder. "Tiny-tits here is the only one who can handle me right."

This successfully defused the situation with Black Star, if only because Maka had whirled on Soul, murder in her eyes and a book in her hands.

"Makaaaaaaa CHOP!"

The blow was glancing, and the book bounced half-heartedly off of Soul's head. He let out a sigh and pulled her closer with one arm.

"C'mon. Let's go home… I don't think there's much else to do here and I'm hungry." Fixing a warning gaze at Black Star, he started to push his grumbling meister towards the trees. " 'sides, I don't much like where this moron is taking the conversation." He took a few shuffling steps himself, herding Maka in the proper direction. Behind them, Black Star was snickering about how not even his friends could handle his greatness, and Soul placed a hand on his meister's shoulder to keep her from snapping back a response.

Instead, she fixed her eyes on him with scrutiny and concern. "Is resonating with him really that bad?"

"It's kinda painful. Like having someone hold onto your hand when they're runnin' too fast for you. And having his hands on me…" He abruptly removed his hand from Maka's shoulder, running it through his hair instead before stuffing it back into his pocket. Maka looked at him once again, the concern more evident in her expression. Soul rolled his eyes. "It just doesn't feel right. They're all calloused and his fingers are blunt. I like yours better."

The concern retreated, replaced with a thoughtfulness that Soul recognized. Their walk home was going to be silent, except for the light music that flowed from her soul when she thought a little too hard. The weapon chuffed out another laugh and walked beside her as best as he could as they weaved through the trees and made their way back home.

* * *

Maka had gotten into the habit of changing into her bedclothes whenever she knew she was going to spend the rest of her night at home. A year ago, she would have been more awkward about lounging around the house in a flimsy nightshirt and shorts so near to Soul, but years of cohabitation had desensitized her to the awkwardness of it all. Most of the time she didn't even bother wearing a bra, grateful to be free of the restrictive garment. Soul had taken it in stride and had never said anything to her about it.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, frowning at her reflection. Her slim hands plucked at the straps of her tank top, worrying the thinning fabric. Ash-blonde hair hung limply on her shoulders, curling around her collarbones and tickling her back. Absent-mindedly, she noted that she should get a haircut soon. Long hair was impractical for battle.

Soul leaned in on the doorway, his voice drawling. "Oi. You gonna just sit there and st s are all night? I gotta take a shower at some point." It had taken him longer to become comfortable with the less formal state of dress in their apartment, and his coming to dinner in boxers and an undershirt had been a relatively new thing.

The meister sighed in the direction of the mirror, casting Soul a sidelong glance. She maintained eye contact for a little longer than normal, chewing on the edge of her lip slightly. He braced himself for a question he was not going to like hearing.

"Are they really…" Her tone was soft, reluctant. It was unusual for her, and Soul straightened a little as he leaned against the doorframe. He made a conversational noise of encouragement, meeting her eyes as best he could. Maka blushed. "Are they really that unappealing? My…t-tits, I mean."

She was really chewing on her lip now, and she had broken eye contact at the same time as her voice stuttered. Soul noticed that her hands were gripping the counter hard enough that her knuckles were white. Laughing, he stepped into the bathroom. He slipped past Maka and grabbed his toothbrush, grinning as he passed.

"Geez. You're still worrying about that?" His red eyes met hers with a playfulness that she couldn't look away from. The blush on her cheeks reddened with chagrin.

"Well, you say it all the time, so I thought that—"

"You think too much," he said. His voice was unusually matter-of-fact, underlined by the still present grin on his face. "I only say that because I'm teasing you."

Maka sputtered, moving aside as her weapon leaned in towards the sink, turning on the water to wash off his toothbrush. It was only a couple weeks old, but already its bristles were looking more than a little worse for wear. Those sharp teeth of his made such quick work out of toothbrushes that Maka finally convinced him that buying in bulk was a smart option. She watched as he went through his routine: wash off the brush, look morosely at its state of destruction, put on toothpaste, stick in mouth and scrub vigorously.

After some thought, she responded: "Well, you always seemed to really like Blair, so I just—"

Soul snorted. He removed the toothbrush and shot her an amused look. "Like Blair? She harasses me practically every morning and she is always coming in late, waking me up in the middle of the night. Yeah. I _really_ like her, Maka." The words were accompanied by one of the most spectacular eyerolls the scythemeister had ever seen. Her blush deepened.

"I didn't mean her, necessarily, I meant her…uh…"

"Breasts?" Soul interjected. Maka nodded in an embarrassed fashion. To this, Soul shrugged. "Well, yeah. Of course I do. But if you want me to be honest with you, Maka…" He set the toothbrush down on the counter, wiping toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. The grin was back. "I like all breasts. Cool guys don't pick and choose."

Maka scowled. That sounded like something her father would say. "But you always get nosebleeds when Blair's around," she accused, refusing to look her weapon in the eyes.

"Yeah. But when Blair's around, she's always either naked or close to it." His expression grew thoughtful. "Either that, or she's crawlin' all over me. It's just bothersome. Not cool at all." Maka was about to retort, but Soul read her expression and spoke before her. "Maka…I can't control my physical reactions. Any more than you can keep yourself from starin' at Kid's ass when he walks by."

He busied himself with the business of washing off his toothbrush while the blonde beside him turned various shades of tomato red. Surprisingly, his expression was somewhat stoic; Maka would have expected him to press the teasing. Instead, the weapon seemed content to reach for the floss and go about the painstaking task of cleaning his gums.

Maka, wanting to avoid getting hit by Soul's elbows as he tried his best not to cut the floss with the sides of his teeth, stepped back a bit. She watched him in the mirror. Soul's minute facial expressions were incredibly difficult for her to read. Her best option was gauging his mood through his voice, and it was hard for her to do so when he had his hands in his mouth. Green eyes scanned the mirror, dancing in and out of contact with the red ones that were looking steadily forward. A wave of awkward washed over her and Maka dropped her gaze to the floor. After a few more moments of relative silence, she slipped out of the bathroom.

She plopped down on the couch, looking at her feet and thinking hard. Years of watching her Papa ogle every female that crossed his path had embittered her, yes, but she had never really thought about how much it affected interactions with her partner, the one boy she actually claimed to trust. _No, not a boy,_ M Maka corrected herself. _Soul's definitely a man now._ They had lived together for years, and he was on the cusp of turning twenty. _And he certainly doesn't look like a boy anymore…._

Soul had called her out on staring at their friend, and though it embarrassed her, she was glad that he hadn't drawn attention to all the time she spent staring at _him_. There were times when she felt guilty… her longer-than-appropriate glances when Soul and Black Star decided to spar, her clear enjoyment of the dinners when he showed up shirtless…it didn't feel right to be so fascinated by someone she had known for so long. By Maka's logic, Soul should have been like a brother to her, but part of her couldn't help but appreciate how attractive her partner had grown up to be.

A sigh huffed from her lips. Soul was not that much older than her. They were closing on their teens and neither of them had ever been in any sort of romantic relationship. Maka could have given the excuse that, being students at Shibusen, they didn't have time for such frivolities, if not for the fact that Ox and Kim had been dating for _years._ Or that she had been born when her parents were only eighteen. The fact of it struck her hard; she balled herself up, refusing to trust others, and had never even considered reaching out to anyone but Soul. Black Star and Kid were close friends, but aside from the occasional approving glance, she really didn't have much to say about either in a romantic sense. Kid had even more issues than she did. And if Maka had learned anything from her resonance with Tsubaki earlier that day, it was that there was a lot more going on between her and her meister than Maka and Soul had known. Maka could feel an undercurrent of it in Tsubaki's wavelength, that thrumming connection that had hummed whenever Black Star spoke. Even when in resonance with another, Tsubaki's soul still called out to the blue-haired buffoon. It was actually quite amazing to behold.

Maka's brows furrowed in thought. Was that normal for a weapon and meister pair? After all that time together, it made sense. Did she and Soul have that same sort of connection? They were well-known in Shibusen for having an exceptional resonance level, but that didn't necessarily mean that their souls were connected like Tsubaki's and Black Star's. After examining the situation, Maka was almost certain that there were romantic feelings involved in that tie. While she begrudgingly admitted that Soul was attractive, Maka was certain that they didn't have any romantic feelings between them. At least, she couldn't detect any….

"Maka. Stop."

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin when Soul's gruff voice sounded from behind her. She had managed to take the entire couch, her long legs akimbo. It was something that she did often enough that her weapon didn't even bother to ask her to move any more. With gentle hands, he simply rearranged Maka's body in a way that allowed him to sit on the couch unhindered. He gave no protest when her feet ended up in his lap.

Maka managed to pull herself out of her thoughts enough to pout. Soul rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't start. I can hear you when you're thinkin' too hard. You've already done that enough today." Absentminded hands drifted to her ankles. They felt warm and somewhat soft; Maka was reminded that even though she wore gloves as much as she could while fighting, she still had thickly calloused hands from years of fighting with Soul. He worked just as hard as she, but his hands were still more girly than hers. She giggled a bit at this. Soul smiled at this. "There you go. Relax, Maka, we don't get our new assignment for another couple days."

With a nod, she stretched out more fully, causing those hands to slide up to the middle of her shins as her feet hung off the arm of the couch. Soul watched passively while she flexed her feet, pointing her toes and then relaxing until she heard a popping sound.

"That's better," she sighed, closing her eyes. On a whim, she slipped into the mindset of soul perception, willing Soul's into her mind. She rarely used it on him, since it felt a bit like invading his privacy, but her curiosity got the better of her. It looked no different than it ever had; it was, simply, Soul. No matter how much she looked at it, she couldn't feel anything…different. There was no special tie, no magical connection between his soul and her own. Maka felt slightly embarrassed, knowing that there was no reason for her to expect otherwise.

She cut off the perception abruptly, opening her eyes to find that her weapon was watching her intently. He had been examining her facial expressions, and the meister reminded herself that he was no fool. Soul had earned her trust time and time again, and he was remarkably observant when he cared to be.

"Soul, can I ask you a question?"

"Is it about your tits again?"

Perhaps he wasn't quite as observant as she liked to think he was. Her weapon was obviously a moron.

"No, Soul, it's not. I just thought of something while resonating with Tsubaki today." Soul nodded, ignoring her peeved tone.

"I never asked you about that, did I? Actually, I was kinda curious how it went…" A hand ran through his hair as his face scrunched up. "Knowin' how awful it is to resonate with anyone other than you, I was wonderin' if it felt as weird for you as it does for me."

Maka tilted her head. "I wouldn't say it was awful. At least it's not uncomfortable to resonate with Tsubaki, but it felt like there was something missing in the connection. I just wouldn't be comfortable going into battle with her. But at least I can hold her, even if it feels really weird to have something other than your haft in my hands. Remember that time we were fighting and couldn't even resonate?"

Soul's expression was pained. "I wish I didn't." Maka softly laughed her agreement. She wiggled her legs a little, bouncing her feet experimentally against the arm of the couch. Soul stilled her by laying his other hand against her shins.

"When you say that resonating with anyone else is awful, do you mean—"

"Well, no one is as bad as Black Star," Soul defended. "But I don't care for resonating with either Stein or Shinigami-sama, to be honest." Maka frowned at this, like Soul knew she would. "It's not like I can't. Hell, with both of them, I can come up with a better resonance than most weapons. But it's mostly them. I just kinda let go and let them direct my energy the way they want. When I'm in their hands, I feel like an object. Especially Stein." Soul shuddered at the thought, and Maka could sympathize. Though she respected Stein tremendously, she would never forget how terrifying he could be. She did not like remembering the dissection lines he had drawn on her. It had bordered on dehumanizing. Resonating with Stein had to be incredibly difficult, especially since he struggled with his madness even more than Soul did.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed that Soul was tracing little patterns on her shin with his fingers, light enough to tickle. It wasn't unpleasant and was distraction enough to keep her thoughts off of the horrors that Stein was capable of.

"I guess they figured out how much I disliked it, since they hardly ever give me an assignment with anyone other than you now."

"Maybe we just make a really good team?" Maka suggested, hoping to sound helpful. Soul nodded.

"Well, duh. We're lethal. And cool, too."

They sat in silence for a while, Maka's brain pleasantly blank of most anything except for the feeling of Soul's fingers on her leg. He was humming something quietly to himself, eyes closed. The little circles on her leg had turned into gentle, rhythmic tapping, and Maka figured that he was playing music in his mind again. She often lamented that because they didn't have a piano in their apartment, she missed out on the rare occasions when Soul felt like playing. As she lay there on the couch, curled up at Soul's side, she found merit in this alternative.

"Soul?" Her voice was sleepy with contentment.

"Yeah?"

"What does soul resonance with me feel like?"

Soul's fingers stopped. The silence continued, and Maka was afraid that she had somehow ruined the moment. But after a minute or so, he spoke:

"Like trust." This caused Maka to raise an eyebrow, but Soul didn't seem to notice. He continued: "You don't open yourself to a lotta people. It makes sense, what with your family and all. But with me, when we resonate, it's like you're lettin' me see a part of you that nobody else sees. Sometimes it can be scary, like…what if I lose control? What if I can't protect her the way she needs to be protected?" Maka sat up to look at Soul properly. His brow was furrowed, but when he made eye contact with her, he chuckled. "Guess that's not all that cool of me."

"No…it is, actually." Maka leaned forward, holding out a hand. He took it in confusion, letting her fingers lace through his. Her breath grew steady as her soul reached out for his. He immediately responded, launching into resonance.

And there it was, that same protective caress, the solid and unwavering presence that she associated with Soul. She tried her best to share the sensation over the link, communicating in a semi-coherent stream of emotions and words. From Soul's side, she could read bemusement and curiosity. _I figured that the best way to communicate this was by example, _she said, somewhat defensive, but Soul was filled with agreement and gratitude. Then he was tugging at the link, trying to communicate with her; she felt how precious he found her to be. It came with the urge to protect her, but also with a great deal of respect.

_You're strong. You don't take any crap from anyone. You're brave. _The words accompanied his approximation of what her anti-madness wavelength felt like; a soothing rush that gave him strength. She felt how he attempted to entwine his soul with hers, wanting to bolster them both, but not wanting to encroach, knowing the omnipresent danger of his madness. _The boosted sensation of your emotions can be overwhelming, though._ He could recall times when the vibrations of her anger threatened the integrity of his coolness; Maka was unabashed about them. She knew that even in resonance, there were times when Soul held back. With Tsubaki, her emotions floated freely through the link, but Soul's had the feeling of being carefully channeled. He spent so much time and effort erecting those walls. Maka wondered if it affected their resonance.

_You could stand to get a little more angry sometimes._ _I worried about how apathetic you seemed for a while, but once we started getting the hang of resonance, I realized that you just have a very tight lid on those emotions. Let a few out, sometimes. _She leaned her forehead against his gently. Through the link, she could feel Soul's resistance, his urge to brush off her statement with sarcasm. Maka responded with a coaxing hum, trying her best to imitate the song that he had been thinking of earlier. _C'mon. I don't bite. _

_Yes, you do. _His response was immediate. Soul's end of the link shimmered with images of a crazed Maka chewing on Crona's head.

_That's not fair!_ She was pouting again. _The black blood has made both of us do things we regret. _

_Yeah. And the black blood is transmitted through my sharing with you too much. _

_Soul, it's been a very long time since I was affected by the madness in you. _Waves of comfort, of reassurance, vibrated through the link. _I trust you. There's no need to spend all this time worrying about protecting me; we protect one another. What if this helps our resonance?_

Soul's soul grew still for a moment. Then he sighed. _Maka. You're ridiculous. Our resonance rate is fine. Didn't you say that we're an awesome team?_

_Yeah, _Maka countered, _but we could be an even better one. _

_Being partners isn't about being the best, _Soul scolded. _You're sounding like your mom. _

Maka felt properly chastised. She knew it was a selfish way to approach the problem, but she thought that the promise of better resonance would help coax Soul out of his fortress. It was something that would have swayed her to do so. A soft laugh sounded in her ear.

_You have just as many walls as I do, Maka._ Soul's tone wasn't accusing, but Maka could sense the hurt in it. _You trust me, but not with everything. _

_I just thought that there were some things that you didn't need to know…._

_Can't I feel the same, then? _ He was looking her in the eyes now, and it was difficult to look away with their faces so close together.

_But if we could resonate better, maybe…._

Soul sighed inwardly. _Back to this. _

Frustrated, Maka sent him her earnest feelings through the link. It wasn't about resonating better because she wanted to be the best meister or because she wanted to be stronger in battle. _I want better resonance because I know how capable we are of it. And because I want to know you better. And…because…well…._

Concentrating, she carefully sent Soul one of her guarded feelings: Had her papa really made it so that she couldn't trust people? She had always thought she trusted Soul, but even then, she was scared to let him know things, even silly stuff like how much she liked to watch him when he was shirtless and—

Her mind had rambled on, following the natural course of her thoughts, and when she realized what she had just confessed, she closed off the connection abruptly. Blushing cheeks betrayed her. Soul, however, said nothing. His side of the link had stilled, and his expression was steady, but his hands clutched at hers a little harder than normal.

And then she felt the possessiveness. Soul had allowed it to leak through the link, at first a in a trickle so as to not be overwhelming, but it was straining against the floodgates. Maka was struck by the depth of it; she understood why he was hesitant to share it with her. When they entered soul resonance, his soul reached out to hers, caressing, never wanting to let go. The strong presence of his soul was reinforced by his overwhelming possessiveness. Maka shrank back a little, struck by the strength of it all, but Soul gripped at her tighter.

She saw, in Soul's mind, all the loneliness he felt. His isolation from his family and from others made his soul yearn for another. And now that he had hers…she felt his distaste for resonating with anyone else, the distance he felt between himself and them. What he craved was this resonance and this one alone. He wanted this. He wanted _her_. Not just because he found her attractive- no matter how often he teased her- but because her soul called out to his in a way that nothing else did. _My meister. Mine._

"I didn't wanna tell you this for a reason." Though they were still in resonance, he spoke aloud. There was gruffness to his voice. "It's not cool to be so needy."

His hands still gripped tightly at hers—she could see how the tips of his fingers were reddened from the pressure. She flexed her fingers experimentally, sending a shimmer of discomfort through the link. Soul looked immediately chastened and loosened his grip. Maka could feel his fear that she would remove her hands from his grasp, but she merely wiggled them to restore the blood flow a bit. Her eyes drifted shut and through Soul, she could perceive faint notes of a song.

_Is that you?_ The music sounded distantly familiar, though it wasn't the kind of song he normally played. Soul chuckled.

_No, Maka, that's _you. An image of Maka standing at the mirror in the bathroom flashed through their resonance. _It's the music I hear when you're thinkin' too much. You're pickin' up on it through me. _

Maka's eyes opened and she leaned back, disconnecting her forehead from her partner's so that she could look at him in confusion. "This is the music that I think of?"

Soul flashed his grin at her. "Naw. It's mine. I read music in you." He relaxed his arms and their hands fell into the tangle of their legs. Ashen hair fell across her face as she tilted her head to the side. She blew her bangs out of the way and the music swelled more loudly through their collective link.

"Only me?" The question was innocent, but she said it in the same tone she had when she asked highly theoretical questions in class. Her eyebrows started to furrow in thought.

"No. I hear yours most through resonance, of course, and yours is the only one that I can hear outside of it."

Maka looked surprised. "Outside of resonance?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's kinda weird. Sorry."

Maka raised an eyebrow at this. "Nothing to be sorry about, Soul. It's just…interesting. And weird. But I'm glad I know, at least." She smiled at him, the curve of her lips a little shy. The music stilled, only faintly evident through their link. They sat in their companionable resonance for a moment.

Maka's stomach made a noise. She laughed a little at the interruption, but her sudden realization of just how hungry she was flooded their resonance, drowning out the last of the tinkling piano notes. Soul released her hands and stood, pulling at his side of the resonance. "I'll go get somethin' from the kitchen. It's my turn to cook."

Maka carefully tugged back, keeping Soul in the link. She sent him feelings of sincerity as she stood beside him.

"I need you too, Soul." Her face colored slightly as she looked him in the eye. "I'm glad you're my partner."

Soul gave one of his rare toothless smiles. "Yeah," he laughed. "So am I." He detached from the resonance gently and headed for the kitchen. Maka stretched out her neck, soothing the soreness from both sitting bent on the couch and from the training with Tsubaki. She hadn't realized just how exhausted she felt—her anger with Black Star had distracted her from realizing just how drained she was. Tsubaki was an incredible weapon, but she was exhausting to wield. Maka felt a renewed admiration for Black Star's abilities; she couldn't imagine how draining it would be to wield her in Enchanted Sword mode. A wave of fondness for her weapon washed over Maka. Soul was delightfully uncomplicated, never pulling too much of her wavelength, never giving too little. As a weapon, he was delightfully conscientious.

"Oi, Maka!" He called from the kitchen, amidst the sounds of pots and pans being shuffled around. "Should I take off my shirt when I come to dinner?"

Maka hunted down the nearest book, hoping to give her 'conscientious' weapon a reminder in why his meister was not one to be taken lightly.


	2. Fly

Author's Notes: I actually have an insane amount of Daddy Spirit feels and they wormed their way into this chapter hardcore.  
As for Mackheath- he is the titular Mack the Knife a la the song. You can hear all sorts of versions of it...my playlist for Affinity has eleven versions total. (My favorites are the Kevin Spacey, Rosemary Clooney, and Michael Buble ones; Louie Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, and Bobby Darin's are the classics. The original song comes from the German Threepenny Opera.) The song is incredibly influential to the story, as well as the Threepenny Opera itself.  
Maka's thinking song as she's sitting in the kitchen- the one Soul falls asleep listening to- is Fly by Ludovico Einaudi.  
As you might have guessed, there's a lot of music involved in my writing process, so if you want my playlist for Affinity, I would be more than happy to supply it for you.

* * *

It was quiet in the Death Room. Maka and Soul knelt at a low table set upon the room's round platform. Before them, Shinigami-sama sat drinking almost daintily from a cup of tea that looked comically tiny in his hands. Instead of drinking the bitter matcha in his cup, Soul pondered the logistics of his boss being able to drink through his mask and Shinigami robe. Maka seemed to be thinking very deeply, her mind awhirl with musical notes that Soul only barely registered. She drank from her own cup pensively.

Soul gave his drink the evil eye. Not only was it tea, something reserved mainly for old people and invalids, but it was also nearly fluorescent in the strength of its green color. It looked more like toxic waste from some sort of cartoon. He wondered if the reason why Shinigami-sama's hands were as large as they were due to his constant drinking of the stuff.

"Do you not find the tea to your taste, Soul?" Behind his mask, it was impossible to read Shinigami-sama's expression, but his expressive voice depicted a mix of amusement and concern. Soul blinked at him.

"Ehh, no, it's…uhm…" His fingers traced the rim of his cup. "It's fine. Just waiting for it to cool, that's all." He took an experimental sip, attempting to keep his face neutral as his senses processed the bitter sting of the tea. "So you said you had a new mission for us, sir?" The question was ground out through his grimace.  
"Ah, yes!" Enthusiasm filled the deity's voice and he set his cup down. Maka snapped out of her deep thought, straightening her shoulders and focusing on Shinigami-sama. Soul, on the other hand, fixated on the table.

"We've been getting reports of an old enemy reappearing in Chicago. He's quite the dangerous fellow."

"Reappearing, sir?" Maka asked, her tone surprised.

Shinigami-sama's posture indicated embarrassment. "I am afraid so. The pair I first sent in response to his actions never managed to find him. He vanished without a trace. We searched a long while. Azusa was even put on the case; two years with no sign of him and we had concluded that he died."  
"Why did he disappear, though? Don't kishin eggs normally pursue their behavior to excess? It would be easy to track his methods if he relocated…"  
Shinigami-sama shook his head. "That's where he got us. As far as we could tell, this kishin egg just dropped off the map. He was just gone."

Maka's brow furrowed in thought, but Soul was too preoccupied to notice the musical flow of her mind working on overdrive. His own mind was filled with dissonance. Quietly, he raised his gaze to the deity before him.

"Shinigami-sama, why…" His hand reached out and grasped his boss's cup. "_Why were you drinking a different tea than us?!"_ The tea sloshed over from the side of the little black cup, the liquor a deep brown color.

Maka radiated indignation as she aimed a jab at her partner's arm. "Soul! We're talking about something important."

The weapon growled at her, sloshing the cup so that the little Shinigami face emblazoned on it was even with her chin. "Look at it, though! Smell it! He's been drinking somethin' different the whole time and we've been stuck drinking this bitter stuff that looks like it could turn me into a mutant."  
Maka frowned, but upon sniffing the cup delicately, she turned a suspicious eye on Shinigami-sama. "Is this…Earl Grey?"

Shinigami-sama raised a hand in warning of a Shinigami Chop, effectively cowing both weapon and disgruntled meister. Maka's expression remained petulant, however, and Soul remembered that Earl Grey was her favorite.

"As I was saying, we've heard reports of a kishin egg whose actions are much like those of Mack the Knife, and I've decided to send you two in to investigate." The playfulness in his voice faltered a bit. "I'd like to warn you. He's not to be underestimated—this kishin egg is old, and very cautious. This mission will be long term. You'll need to lie low and watch for a while before you strike. Learn his methods and patterns."  
Maka leaned in. "Why don't you send the original pair that tracked him? Wouldn't they know his methods better, despite the years?" She tugged thoughtfully at a pigtail.  
Shinigami-sama's posture stiffened. "They are…no longer compatible. You and Soul are the next best choice." He waved his hand at her fondly. "But you really are one of the brightest meisters I have ever had the pleasure of training, Maka. I'm sure that you and Soul will do an excellent job."

Soul raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing. Crimson and olive eyes met in an even gaze that spoke volumes. Maka gave an almost imperceptible nod. Her tone hardened into what Soul knew as her mission voice.

"When are we set to leave?"

"Tomorrow at six in the evening," the death god responded with equal precision. "I've arranged for you and Soul to fly out of Reno. Soul's bike will take far too long—" Soul gave a grimace of displeasure at the slanderous comment towards his darling. "—and if you fly in on Soul himself, it would be far too conspicuous." Shinigami-sama's tone darkened. "Mack the knife will know to be on the lookout for any members of Shibusen. We can't afford the risk."

Maka scanned a look over her partner, eyes halting a little at his teeth. She turned to Shigami-sama, mouth opened to speak.

"I've taken care of airport security, don't worry. You two will just need to give this note to them—they'll take you through from there." He pointed to a piece of paper on the corner of the table.

Soul chuckled a bit at this. "Thanks, there. I don't know how they'd handle a walking, talking weapon."

Maka shot him a playfully scathing look. "They'd have far more than what they'd bargained for, that's for sure." Soul raised an eyebrow, but he kept quiet, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Now, do I need to arrange for a car to the airport, or can you two get there on your own?" The god's voice was cheerful. Soul blanched at the memory of the last time he and his meister were put into a car with Stein. Beside him, Maka's face mirrored equal horror.

"N-no," Soul choked out, pulling a hand out of a pocket to make a placating gesture. "My bike will get us to Reno just fine."

"Excellent!" The death god straightened, ringing with enthusiasm. "You'd best be off to take care of packing—I know this is short notice, but we need someone on this fast. Spirit will keep you updated with any briefings on the mission." He gave a dismissive wave. "Bye now!"

With a grunt, Soul stood and turned to leave. He felt something brush his arm and he paused. Maka's eyes met his with an even gaze and for a moment, the musical tinkle of her thoughts intensified. A moment of understanding passed between them and she stepped forward.

"Shinigami-sama?" Soul noticed that her gaze when facing the death god was less direct than her glance to him. She was staring up at the robed figure through a curtain of ashen bangs and something akin to uncertainty tugged at the corner of her mouth. Soul quietly stepped behind her and she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. She straightened. The music of her thoughts sharpened and Soul grinned despite himself.

"Hmm? Did you have any questions?" If Shinigami-sama noticed Maka's faltering moment, he made no indication. His tone was as cheerful as it had always been.  
"The pair that you sent to fight Mack before…" A hardness in Maka's eyes turned their soft olive into beryl. "They were my parents, weren't they?"  
Silence fell over the Death Room again—Soul's hand tightened on her shoulder as the music of her thoughts ceased. A breathless moment passed.  
"Yes." The response from the death god was clipped. Soul laughed internally at the feeling of almost-irritation from him. Shinigami-sama himself had said that Maka was one of the brightest meisters he'd ever trained- knew that she had a certain sensitivity to anything that involved her mother or her Deathscythe father. He should have known that Maka would latch onto any vague hints he left. Soul just couldn't figure out why the god seemed so reluctant to give the information. Maka tensed under Soul's grasp.

And then the moment was gone. Shinigami-sama tilted his head and asked with renewed cheer, "Was that all?" Soul stuffed his hand back into his pocket when he felt Maka relax. Ashen pigtails waved as she shook her head with more vigor than necessary.

"Let's go, Soul." Gratitude softened the emerald hues in her eyes. "We're going to need to pack for cold weather."

He gave a tremendous eyeroll. "Chicago's not cold in the summer, Maka. No need to break out the winter gear." He followed his meister as she hopped off the platform, shoulders hunched in his typical slouch. She poked her tongue out at him and he responded in kind, his face looking all the more fearsome for his sharp teeth. Maka giggled, merriment returning to her voice as her partner flashed a grin.

"We're still going to need extra time to pack all your toothbrushes, though."

* * *

Soul's arms laden with their baggage, Maka shuffled through their paperwork.

"I've got the boarding passes right here, but if we can just find the note that Shinigami-sama wrote out for you—" She bit her lip as she spoke, the words somewhat muffled. "—ah! Here we are!" She pulled out a slip of paper with Shinigami-sama's flowing signature on the bottom. Soul noted that the stationary was perfectly symmetrical and restrained laughter. Kid was surely responsible.

"We're gonna be fine, Maka," he grumbled, shifting a bag slung over one shoulder in discomfort. "The big guy said that we'd be taken through security when they took the passes."

Maka frowned. "The note is just in case! We don't to start a scene in the airport, Soul, and that's exactly what it would be if we tried passing you through a metal detector."

Soul let out a groan of frustration, but his meister's point was valid. Weapons and metal detectors were never a good match and airport security was definitely not cool to get caught up in. Scratching his head, he shifted the weight of the bags hanging off of him. He mournfully wished that he had been able to convince Maka to pack lighter. A dull soreness had formed in between his shoulder blades and he was not looking forward to the plane ride to Chicago that was only certain to make it worse because they were flying _coach._ Maka didn't like "wasting" Shibusen's money and was more willing to endure aching legs for it than Soul was. Even the security line was moving at an excruciatingly slow pace. It felt like the entire world was taunting Soul and the two hours of sleep he had gotten the previous night.

At first glance Maka looked no worse for wear, despite the fact that Soul didn't think she slept at all the night before. She had spent the whole night packing and buzzing around in the kitchen, occasionally calling friends to let them know that she'd be out on a mission. The ninja's boisterous voice could be clearly heard even in Soul's room, louder even than Maka's insistence that no, he need not come visit before they go and no, she didn't know when they'd be back but she'd let him know as soon as she did and would he please put Tsubaki on the phone because she had something important to say to her.

He'd come out of his room after she got off the phone, looking every bit as sleepy as she did flustered. Soul noticed the bags under her eyes and told her to go to sleep. She'd shaken her head and said that the still had some work to do in the kitchen before she could sleep. Soul had looked at the spotless kitchen and halfheartedly tugged at her arm, knowing that expecting for her to go to bed was futile**.** He had made her promise him that she would sleep after she was done with the kitchen. Then he'd slouched back to bed and fell asleep to the musical flow of Maka's thoughts.

"Hey, if I'm not allowed to fall asleep standing here, neither are you." A thin finger poked at Soul's side, startling him from his dozing position in line. The people ahead of them were ambling forward and Maka was pulling on his arm—Soul groaned and stepped forward with a venomous glare at his meister. Her responding smile was teasingly sweet. He started to snarl out a response, but he was cut off by a sardonic voice from the other side of the security line's partition tape.

"Ah, Soul, Maka, there you two are." The pair turned to face Stein. An arched eyebrow pulled at the stitches that ran through his face. "We thought that you'd already gone through the line. I'm glad we caught you before you went through."

Maka tilted her head. Her bangs shifted and Soul could see the dark circles under her eyes in the sallow fluorescent lighting of the airport. Not quite as hale as he had thought. "We?"

Stein jerked a thumb to point towards a redheaded man headed in their direction. The corner of Maka's mouth twitched as she recognized her father, but she was too exhausted to react with her normal level of disdain. Spirit seemed less himself—his gait was more shuffling than normal and he didn't exude enthusiasm as he spotted his daughter. Though his eyes brightened when he noticed Maka, the smile on his face was unusually thin.

Stein held up the partition tape. "There's no need for you to wait in this security line. We've arranged for an agent to escort you." He shot Spirit a look of disappointment as Maka and Soul ducked under the upheld tape. "I would have thought someone would have told you that."

Spirit scowled. "Don't look at me like that, Stein, I was going to meet up with them before they left, but they were gone by the time I came to the apartment."  
"Don't be upset, Papa." Maka motioned for Soul to hand her one of the bags that he had been holding. She pushed their paperwork into Stein's hands. The older meister blinked at the documents with dull curiosity. "Soul and I needed to leave early so that he could fill up the motorcycle's tank."

"She also insisted on gettin' a few snacks," Soul drawled, his free hand now rubbing at a sore shoulder. "On top of just leavin' early in general. We probably coulda left thirty minutes later than we did and come out of it just fine."

Maka opened her mouth to argue, but Stein intervened by shoving the paperwork back into Maka's hands and clearing his throat. "This should get you through the security checks with no problems. Wait here while I go get the security agent, would you?" His departure was a swirl of labcoat, leaving the weapon to stand between an uncomfortable Maka and her out-of-sorts father. Remembering the exhaustion in her eyes…and Stein's horrible driving abilities, Soul turned to face the older man beside him.

"Hey, Deathscythe." Though Soul himself had been a Deathscythe already for quite some time, he couldn't bring himself to call Spirit anything else. The thought of calling him Mr. Albarn set Soul's hackles on edge, and calling him Spirit would cause more arguments than it was worth. Spirit's disapproval of Soul had lessened over the years, but their progress had only gone as far as an unsteady truce. Not rocking the hastily patched boat was their unspoken policy. "Did you come up here with Stein?"

Spirit's face paled a little. "Unfortunately. Why?"

Soul ran his fingers through his stark hair, a motion two parts exhaustion and one part awkwardness. "Would you mind drivin' my bike back down to Death City? It's gonna cost the school a pretty penny to leave it sittin' here in the airport lot for Death knows how long and I'd be more comfortable if my baby were left somewhere more safe."

Spirit looked uncomfortably in the direction of Stein, who was gleefully leading a TSA agent towards them, and nodded. "Yeah. I haven't ridden a motorcycle in a while, but I'll take it slow. I'll get her there safely." He awkwardly clapped Soul on the shoulder, looking around the weapon to see his daughter, who was purposefully looking in another direction. Spirit cleared his throat in an imitation of Stein's actions before. "Maka, sweetie…"

She made awkward eye contact, too tired to put up her typical wall of antagonism. "Yes, Papa?"

"Um." Spirit edged closer, carefully nudging Soul to the side. The white-haired scythe obliged with an irritable look. "I love you."

He was leaning over his daughter, worry etched into his face. A small blush warmed hers. "I…love you too, Papa." She crossed her arms in obvious discomfort, but she shuffled a few steps closer to her father and leaned lightly into his arm. Spirit pat her hair, trying not to cross too many of his daughter's boundaries.  
As this played out in front of Soul, he wondered if people watching him interact with his parents found it as profoundly awkward as he found watching the two beside him.

From a few yards away, Stein called Spirit over to speak with the TSA agent, who looked rather incredulously at the giant screw sticking out of the meister's head. Spirit left reluctantly, leaving Maka to relax slightly out of the stiffened posture she had assumed. Soul eyed her with partial amusement.  
"What's up with you—" He stopped himself before he used his typical teasing nickname, the end of his sentence decidedly choked. Maka didn't seem to notice, fortunately, staring a bit vacantly in the distance. The crowded airport created too much dissonance for Soul to clearly read the music in her without Soul Resonance, but he could hear some notes of her thoughts faintly. They sounded tired.

"You heard Shinigami-sama," she said slowly, her eyes catching the sight of her father trying to calmly explain the situation to the TSA agent, who appeared to grow more incredulous by the minute. "He and Mama were the pair originally sent after Mack. I'm sure that this is…hard…for him."

Soul arched a white brow at her. "That's awfully forgiving of you." Maka shrugged.

"He's still a lowlife womanizer, but I can understand the guilt over a failed mission. I can't imagine how embarrassing it must be for your own child to be the one to clean up your mess." She turned to Soul, who was studying her father's antics with a watchful eye.

"I think he's worried. This is obviously a dangerous enemy…he's probably angry with himself for noting being able to do anything but see you off." Soul gave a crooked smile. "He wants to protect you."

It was Maka's turn to raise an eyebrow. "And you'd be the authority on knowing this?"

Soul barked in laughter, mussing Maka's hair as she squawked in indignance. "Yeah, Maka, when it comes to the art of worryin' about your dumb butt, I'd say I am the world's leading expert. That guy gives me a run for my money, though." He nodded in the direction of the red-haired deathscythe, who was pulling the TSA agent towards Maka and Soul, a bored-looking Stein in tow. Maka shuffled through the papers, finding a specific handwritten note in the midst of all the formal papers. Smiling, she pushed her father aside and handed the paper to the agent. The incredulity in the man's face faded somewhat.

"You really are from Shibusen, then. These two weirdos with you, then?" Discomfort in his face, he gave a meaningful glance to Stein, who was looming behind the agent, turning the screw in his head with precise movements.

"Ah—yes, sir. In a way." Maka's smile turned visually apologetic, though Soul could see the irritation it held. Despite all he had put them through, Maka respected Stein as a fellow meister and teacher. And despite all that he put her through, she really did love her father. "They were here to escort us and give us any last briefings before we left. They will not be coming on the plane with us."

Relief washed over the agent's face. "Well, if you'll give me your boarding passes, I can sign off and take you around security. Your bags will need to go through, still, but you guys can pass the detectors just fine." Maka handed him their boarding passes, removing the bag she had slung over her shoulder and dropping it on the floor. She rubbed at her shoulder and shot a look at Soul. He didn't need to be in Resonance to determine that it was an apology for making him carry it for her earlier. The security agent returned the boarding passes with a curious look. "If I may ask…which one of you is the weapon and which is the…uh…whatchacallit…"

"Meister," Soul interjected, clapping a hand on the agent's shoulder. He bared his teeth in a deliberately gruesome grin. The agent's face went white. "She's _my_ meister." Hefting the bag from the ground into his arms, he nodded up at Stein. "You need anything else from us, weirdo?"

"Do you have Spirit's number in your phone?" Stein cocked his head to the side, sounding dangerously bored. His eyes kept wandering back in the direction of the terrified TSA agent. Wanting to distract Stein from any further twisted desires, Maka nodded. Soul shook his at the same time, and, realizing what was expected of him, reluctantly gave his phone to the redheaded scythe. Spirit punched a number in the phone quickly and pushed it back into Soul's hands, turning back to his daughter immediately.

"Maka…Papa wants you to be careful. This kishin egg is not someone to mess with. If you need help, you call me right away, okay?" Spirit pulled Maka closer and she edged back next to him stiffly.

Stein shot his former partner a stern look. "They need to be boarding soon. You'll need to cut your father-daughter bonding short."

Maka gratefully pulled away from her father, smiling at him. "Don't worry—I'll be safe. Besides, I've got Soul with me." She tapped her partner's shoulder, half tugging at the strap of the bag he picked up. He held onto it stubbornly, but his grin softened. Spirit frowned somewhat, but he dug around in his pocket in lieu of causing a fight.

"Here's some cash in the event that your cards get lost or stolen. Or if you need to make purchases that can't be easily traced." Spirit's voice was commanding as he handed Maka a small wallet, but the worry was still clear in his eyes. "Mack is a smart one. If you let him know that you're on his tail, he'll come after you. Watch from afar and keep us informed of your progress. You're an accomplished meister-weapon pair, but your enemy has experience on his side."

Soul snorted. "We'll be fine, Deathscythe. We'll text ya when we land. Let's go, Maka." He dumped their bags in the security agent's arms. "Lead the way, weirdo."

The man scurried off, Maka and Soul following more leisurely. Spirit watched them go, his face morose.

"They'll be fine, Spirit," Stein said, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You couldn't find a better match than those two. They know the ropes and they sure as hell surpassed you and your ex-wife in power a long time ago."

Stein barked with laughter at Spirit's sour expression. "Shinigami-sama picked them for a reason."

And though he hated to admit it, as Spirit watched his little girl and her razor-toothed weapon walk off through the airport, he knew that Stein was right.

* * *

Soul's shoulder was sore, but he wasn't going to complain.

After all, it just wasn't cool to complain about having a girl sleeping on your shoulder. But this specific girl had a habit of Maka Chopping him for things that weren't his fault, so he decided that waking her up before she exacted her revenge was a good idea.

"Hey…you awake?" he mumbled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder awkwardly, pondering the idea of just shaking her until she woke. She gave no response except to nuzzle closer in her sleep. Again he could see the dark circles under her eyes, bruise like from the sickly glow of the overhead light. As he examined her face, he sighed. He didn't have the heart to wake her, especially after she spent an entire night with her thoughts a worrying flurry of notes. Awake, his meister was a headstrong ball of courage and fury, both fearsome foe and powerful ally. But as she slept, she looked more child than fighter, her thin frame practically swamped by the overlarge sweater she wore. She nuzzled closer again, burying her face in his neck and mumbling almost incoherently. Her eyebrows furrowed, casting shadows onto her cheeks.

He chuckled, remembering how she always slept with the shades firmly closed, always demanding that the hallway light be turned off, lest the light slip out from the crack under her door. Careful to not disturb her head on his shoulder, he reached upwards and turned off the overhead light. Peace washed over her face and her body relaxed a little more.

Exhausted from his own lack of sleep the night before, Soul let his eyes drift closed. He let the arm on her shoulder relax and he turned his head slightly so that it rested more comfortably on the top of Maka's. His nose was buried in her hair. Deciding that it would be worth the Maka Chop he'd likely get when she woke, he inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of his meister and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The night was cold. Though it was summer, a chill wind blew strongly enough that most of the passerby had dug through their winter wardrobes for a scarf. Humid air helped the cold sink in through jackets and layers of thin summer clothing.

There was leisure in Mackheath's step. He flexed gloved fingers as he walked, pale eyes watchful. Even on unseasonable days such as these, the streets of Chicago were packed with people and he was exceptional at observing them. Years of practice had made his gaze sharp. He sized up each person who passed, seeing through their outer layers to glimpse the souls underneath. His ability wasn't quite as exceptional as the Soul Perception of some meisters, but it did the job for him well enough. After all, he didn't need to see the details of each individual soul—he just needed a general sense of their power.  
Most pedestrians had small, weak souls. Such was the nature of most humans, after all. But in a place like Chicago, there were enough people that one could run into an exceptional soul every now and again…and Mackheath was remarkably patient.

He was also very talented at blending in with the crowd. No one was suspicious of him even though he'd been tailing a man for several blocks now. Mackheath waited until the man was in a safer neighborhood and lulled into a false sense of security before moving in. The man's soul was powerful enough that Mack had been able to follow him from a few streets away.

The gloved man inclined his neck, pulling until he heard a popping sound. He repeated with the other side. His time to strike was approaching. He pulled the collar of his jacket up higher, looking every bit the part of another pedestrian galvanized into walking more quickly by the brisk wind. But he closed in on his target, long strides and the other's ignorance making up for Mackheath's short stature.

Mackheath slowed to a more normal pace as he caught up to his target, who was too distracted to notice the man behind him. The target—a harried-looking jazz pianist by the name of Louie Fitzgerald—glanced at his watch nervously and hefted the briefcase in his hands. He would have shouted in distress when a pair of gloved hands grabbed at him, but his mouth wouldn't open. There was no sound but that of his shoes scraping the ground as he was dragged into the alley. The hands that grabbed him were strong, and their owner spoke out a command clearly.

"Area Seal."

The air around the entrance of the alley shimmered, the people on the other side no longer able to see Fitzgerald and his captor. The hands released Fitzgerald and the man stumbled as he took off running in the opposite direction. He skidded to a stop when he realized that the alley ended in a brick wall. A quick scan of the walls showed that all the inlooking windows were boarded up and Fitzgerald could not for the life of him figure out how to open his mouth to scream for help.  
He turned to face his attacker.

Mackheath was not an imposing man. His hair was mousy brown and lank, solid build made unassuming by his short stature. He was dressed plainly, the only thing about his appearance striking were the snow-white gloves that covered his hands. That, and the knife that flashed in his left.

"Put down the briefcase," he deadpanned, gesturing with the knife at the case in Fitzgerald's hands.

The pianist did so slowly, staring his attacker down as evenly as he dared. He wondered if this was some kind of mugging, but the fact that he couldn't speak made no sense. His mind was racing, but he figured the more compliant he was, the more likely he would survive. He tried to stay calm and continued to try to speak or at least open his mouth.

Mackheath cocked a head at the cowering man, a line of frustration forming between his eyebrows. He had prepared himself for a struggle—Fitzgerald had one of the strongest souls he had come across while here—but the man obeyed everything he was told. There was no spark to his soul, no resistance against Mack's menace, and while he supposed that he shouldn't look any gift horses in the mouth, Mackheath felt a certain disappointment for the lack of struggle. He had been hoping for a fight—his combat skills had all but rusted from disuse in past years.

This stay in Chicago was going to be another extended one and Shibusen was sure to realize his presence soon.

Setting the briefcase aside, Macheath advanced on Fitzgerald, who scrambled further towards the wall behind him.

Truly this was too easy.

With a flash of steel, Mack embedded the jackknife into Fitzgerald's abdomen, raising his right hand to the wound. He twisted the blade and watched the pianist convulse in pain; he probably would have screamed if his mouth hadn't been magically bound, voice extinguished. Blood bubbled up around the knife, welling up and starting to spill onto Fitzgerald's clothes.

"We can't have any of this, I'm afraid," Mack said softly, passing his right hand over the stains, murmuring to himself. When he pulled his hand away, the blood had vanished. Mackheath raised his empty eyes to meet with Fitzgerald's wild ones. "I will take your soul, though."

He pulled upward with the handle of the knife, the blade cutting through Fitzgerald's body like butter. Instead of spattering more blood, however, it fell apart at the touch of the blade, its matter fading into nothingness to reveal the small, glowing soul that had been housed inside it. The blue light it gave off cast eerie shadows on Mack's face. He reached out to hold the soul, testing its weight in his palm before skewering it with the blade of the knife. The soul flickered for a moment before forming itself along the blade with a shimmer. For a moment, the knife glowed with the same wan light as the soul had.

"There we go, Peachy," Mack whispered, his glacial voice holding a tinge of warmth. "Not the best you've had, but we take what we can get." His gaze slipped over to the briefcase. "Speaking of…."

With immaculate gloves, Mackheath picked up the briefcase. He understood why Fitzgerald had been hefting it in his hands before; it was surprisingly heavy. Flipping his knife shut, he tucked it back into the inner pocket of his jacket, once again straightening the collar. Fitzgerald had enough fight in him to at least muss up Mack's clothes a bit. He stepped up to the shimmering barrier that blocked off the entrance to the alleyway.

"Area Release."

The barrier disseminated and Mack stepped back out onto the sidewalk, briefly regretting that he hadn't lifted the watch from Fitzgerald's body before he had disintegrated it.

Water under the bridge. He'd buy himself a nicer one with the money in the briefcase.

* * *

Soul felt like a sardine. First crammed into a plane and then into a taxi, he felt an oncoming development of claustrophobia. He longed for his motorcycle, the monstrous orange machine that was almost as precious to him as his meister. Trapped in the metal walls of the small yellow car, he slouched lower in his seat.  
"Makaaaa," he whined, "how far is this hotel we're supposed to be staying at?"

His meister scowled. "How would I know? I've never been to Chicago." She shot a peeved glance at the sullen weapon next to her, remembering the somewhat pleasant shock she felt when she awoke to find her weapon sleeping with her head tucked neatly under his. She had considered waking him up, but she liked the warmth of his arm around her, especially in the stagnantly chill airplane. This compounded with the sudden discovery that his tousled hair smelled marvelous, so she nestled back in and went back to sleep.

Considering his churlish disposition ever since they had gotten off the plane, she wished most fervently that she had just Maka Chopped him for all he was worth. Now he seemed more content to glare at the roof of the taxi than to contribute pleasant conversation, and Maka perched on her seat with profound discomfort, longing for enough light for her to read the book that she had hastily stuffed in the bag that sat at her feet.

Soul sighed audibly, causing Maka to send him another glare. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, the light illuminating his face in the dark car. With a grin, Maka remembered the flashlight function on her phone and pulled her own out as she dug around for her book.

"Reading in the car, huh? Geez, you're such a bookworm." Despite the disinterest in his voice, he watched her with a bit of amusement. Maka rolled her eyes, refusing to take the bait. In her peripheral vision, she could see Soul tapping at his phone.

"And I suppose you're doing something more worthwhile, then?"

Perhaps she'd take a nibble of the bait.

"Eh, not really. Just texting your old man to make sure he hasn't crashed my bike."

Maka arched an eyebrow at this. "And did he?"

"He says he didn't, but I asked him for proof." Soul's eyes closed. Despite the lovely Maka-scented nap he had taken on the plane, he felt exhausted. All he wanted was to sleep in a proper bed.

"Has he given any?" Maka's voice was more detached—she had returned to her book and was only paying half attention to him. Soul shook his head, despite knowing that Maka wouldn't notice the movement. They sat in silence for a moment, broken a few minutes later by the vibrating buzz of Soul's phone.  
He picked it up, unlocking it with a swipe. The snort he gave was tremendous enough that Maka looked up from her book. "What is it?"

He held the phone out for her to see. On the phone's small screen was a picture of an embarrassed-looking Marie and Stein standing in front of Soul's bike, parked in front of what looked like Stein's laboratory. Marie held up a sign with the day's date written on it. Stein held up his fingers in a peace sign that sharply contrasted the bored look on his face.

Maka's lips pressed together with some emotion Soul couldn't decipher before she turned back to her book without a word. Looking at his meister, hunched over her book, Soul reached out to try and catch the musical quality of her thoughts. Though quiet, he could hear their dissonant frustration. He wondered what it was that she had to be frustrated about before realizing just how irritable he had been ever since they had gotten off of the plane.  
His phone buzzed again, and he tiredly looked at the message.

Maka glanced at him through the curtain of her hair—it had somehow fallen out of her pigtails while she was on the plane and she hadn't bothered to search out another pair of hairbands to put it back up—and watched as he stared at the phone intently.

"Is it something important?" she asked, her voice softer than she had intended it to be. Soul didn't respond for a moment before tucking the phone back into his pants' pocket.

"Naw. Just your old man talking about my bike."

"It's okay, right?" Concern colored her tone. Despite all her frustrations with her partner at the moment, Maka knew just how important the bike was to him.  
"Yeah." He looked at her for a long moment before reaching out to grab her hand. "Hey, Maka, I'm…uhm…sorry."

In that moment, the meister was glad for the darkness of the car. It concealed her embarrassed blush well. "For what?"

"I've been an ass today. I didn't get much sleep and I…well, I'm not used to getting' crammed into spaces like this for so long. We ride the bike or fly most everywhere, so cars and planes kinda get to me." In the moving shadows of the car, Maka could see the apologetic smile he gave her. She gave his hand an appreciative squeeze.

"No problem, Soul. Thanks for telling me."

He laughed a bit. "Thanks for not choppin' me." Her laughter mingled with his for a moment, the atmosphere of the cab lifting. Their hands fell to the middle seat between them, fingers still entwined. Maka closed the book with her other hand and looked out of her window, her small smile partially reflected on the surface of the window.

With his free hand, Soul dug his phone out of his pocket and looked at Spirit's message again.

_I brought your baby back home safe; please do the same with mine._


	3. Tonight

Author Notes: The songs played by Soul in the Dive are "Lucky to Be Me" by Bill Evans and "Tonight" by Ludovico Einaudi. I don't own the characters of Soul Eater, any of the aforementioned music, nor the names from the Threepenny Opera herein.

* * *

Soul woke not to the obnoxiously blaring sound of an alarm clock, but to Maka's voice. She was speaking softly, which was especially unusual when she was trying to get her weapon out of bed. Groggy, Soul reached out an arm to swat at his meister to get her to leave him be, but his blindly waving arm met with no resistance. After a few moments of focus, Soul realized that Maka wasn't trying to wake him at all. At least that explained the softness of her voice.

The sheets of the hotel bed wrinkling starchily at his cheek, Soul turned a bleary eye to view his meister. She had opened a window to let in some of the morning sun and sat in a beam of light on her bed. Her back was turned to him, but Soul could tell by her hushed words that she was speaking to her father on her phone. Tendrils of her hair were lit up by the sunlight, shimmering with gold and bronze. Soul briefly wondered if he could find a way to convince her to wear her hair down more often. A small smile tugged at his lips as he remembered falling asleep with that hair pressed up against his face.

A soft tinkle of musical notes from Maka shocked Soul out of his thoughts. Narrowing his focus, he paid a little closer attention to her music. It was slow and thoughtful, bogged down with grogginess. Soul looked at the window and realized that she must have opened the curtains to help wake herself up. A small chuckle escaped his lips.

Maka turned quickly to face Soul, eyes widening as she saw that he had been scrutinizing her. Soul blushed slightly, trying to fish out an apology that didn't tip off how he had been admiring the curve of her back, but was surprised to find her mouthing her own apologies. Her music moved faster with what Soul realized was embarrassment and self-reproach. She thought she had woken him.

Soul laughed again, this time louder, and stretched, leaving an eye open as he grinned at his partner. "It's cool," he reassured her. The sunlight made her eyes glow a bit more warmly than normal, highlighting their depth of color. Giving in to his inner romantic, Soul simply appreciated how beautiful his meister was as she attempted—in vain—to end her phone call.

"I know, Papa. I promise to keep you updated. Yes, Papa. Yes, Papa. Papa, calm down. Papa…Papa, stop." Knowing her partner was awake, she felt less pressured to keep her voice quiet and she was speaking more forcefully than before. She fell quiet as she listened to her father ramble on the other end. With an irritated sigh, she blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I promise. Look, I have to go; we've got some work to do. Your information was really helpful. Yeah." A pained look crossed her face, but she smoothed it over with a deep breath. "You too," she mumbled before quickly turning her phone off with a jab of a finger. The device was unceremoniously tossed to her other pillow before flopped across her bed, doing her best to keep herself in the beam of light that fell across it.

"Sorry." Her face was pressed firmly to the mattress, muffling her voice until it sounded half-whine. Soul adjusted himself so that he could also lie in the beam of light where it fell across the foot of his own bed.

"No worries. I slept pretty well." He stretched again, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Hotel rooms were always kept ridiculously cold, in Soul's opinion. But then again, he was accustomed to Death City's insane heat, so maybe he was just unused to falling asleep somewhere that wasn't hotter than the devil's armpit.

Maka turned her head and he could see half of her face. The dark circles under her eyes were gone; relief surged through him. The tiredness of her music was more lethargy than it was actual exhaustion. Her mind was moving more quickly, processing whatever new information she had been given. Soul remembered that Spirit was supposed to be delivering their briefings on the mission.

"Was that anything important?" he yawned, extracting himself from blankets with a grimace. The air in the room was too cold and he wanted nothing more than to burrow back into his cloth cocoon. Maka sat up, using her arms to support her bent upper body. The position made her modest chest jut out and Soul amended his previous thought: He wanted nothing more than to burrow back into his cloth cocoon and to somehow convince Maka to curl up beside him. After falling asleep on her on the plane, Soul had concluded that his favorite scent in the world was, in fact, hers.

"Yeah," she had caught his yawn, her syllables drawn out drowsily, "he gave us further information on Mack. Apparently he has a form of Soul Perception."

Soul's eyebrows elevated slightly. "That's…not good. He could already know we're here if that's the case."

Maka's face was thoughtful. "That's right. But he'd have to know we were here in the first place to hunt us out. According to Papa, he doesn't think that Mack's Perception is very strong." She stretched, her back arching gloriously. Soul thought very swiftly of Stein and his grandmother and Black Star. Admitting to finding her attractive didn't mean that he was allowed to let his nose gush blood in response to her without the hazard of a Maka Chop. He scrunched his nose his effort to keep blood flowing in proper places.

Maka saw the expression and interpreted it to be a reaction to the briefing. She smiled sheepishly. "There's more bad news.

"A man named Louie Fitzgerald went missing last night," As she said this, Maka unfolded herself from her bed. She left the sunlight reluctantly, brushing off her skirt with an idle hand. "The MO fits Mack's, apparently. Fitzgerald had been on Shibusen's radar for quite some time."

Soul frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Shibusen keeps an eye on powerful souls, especially those with meister or weapon potential. Supposedly Louie Fitzgerald had meister potential." Maka was rifling through her bag, looking for something, and Soul realized that he was still in last night's clothes. He motioned for her to toss his bag over to him. A playful smirk crossed her face and she threw the bag in his direction, hitting him squarely in the face.

He had no idea why the devil-woman was so precious to him.

But he dutifully went through his bag, looking for clothes as he listened to her speak. She was fully in Maka Mission Mode.

"He wasn't really all that powerful—if he had been found as a child, he might have made it to Shibusen, but his parents kept him on pretty close wraps when he was a kid. Apparently there was weapon blood in their family and they weren't happy with the idea of their son spending the rest of his life in danger." The look she gave Soul was laden with meaning. "His parents wanted him to be a pianist, apparently." Her weapon flinched a little, but said nothing. Maka found what she was looking for—evidently it was her hair brush—and continued: "Supposedly they had someone use a form of Soul Protect on their son until he was old enough that Shibusen would have looked him over. Papa had to come in personally when Fitzgerald had an accidental surge in soul force and broke his Protect. The Fitzgerald family is really influential, so there was a lot of politics involved. Shibusen was supposed to protect Louie, but since we can't seem to track Mack, we couldn't do much. They knew Mack tends to go after human souls of unusual power, so when they began to suspect that Mack might be back in Chicago, they notified the Fitzgeralds. Apparently Shinigami-sama offered a detail to protect him, but Louie himself turned it down." She pulled her hair into her typical pigtails. "His family is very upset at the moment and things are tense. Papa is certain that Louie was killed by Mack, so we're supposed to go to the jazz club he worked at to do an investigation of sorts."

Soul looked up suddenly at this. "Jazz club, huh," he muttered. A lazy grin crept onto his face. "Cool."

Maka attempted to give him a stern look, but his happiness softened her. "Just remember that we're here to do a job. Don't get too carried away."

Soul rolled his eyes at her, extracting a pair of pants to match the shirt he'd tossed out of his bag a moment ago. "You don't need to worry about me, Maka. Cool guys don't get carried away." He waved the pants in her direction. "Now unless you'd like to see just how cool I really am, I suggest you go to the bathroom so that I can change."

His meister gave him a matching eye roll, but she acquiesced while giving a quick nod to the window. "Don't forget to close those. If I can't see how cool you really are, then neither can anyone else."

She slipped into the bathroom without seeing her partner's eyebrows shoot skyward.

* * *

The Dive was not nearly as run-down as its name implied it to be. In fact, according to Soul—who was apparently an expert when it came to this sort of thing, it was a rather classy joint. It was small enough to be intimate, but not cramped. To Maka, who was most decidedly not an expert when it came to this sort of thing, it was incredibly similar to the Black Room. Red curtains lined the walls, blending with the dark-stained wood and softening the effect of the bright lights focused on the small stage at the back of the club. The room smelled mainly of spices and alcohol, but was blessedly smoke free.

They had called the joint to let them know that they'd be stopping in at some time to make a few inquiries about Louie. A worried-sounding woman by the name of Lucy had told them that there would be people setting up sometime around two in the afternoon and requested that they come in when the club itself wasn't open to the public.

The only person who was there to open the door at two, however, was the bartender. The door had swung open almost immediately after they had knocked. Judging by the stool with a bottle of vodka set at its feet that was right next to the door, it seemed like he had been waiting just for them.

The man was haggard in appearance. He might have been handsome if not for the fact that he looked like he had just aged a considerable number of years in the span of the past few hours. But when Maka and Soul announced that they were the visitors from Shibusen, he smiled amiably at them and offered a firm handshake.

"I'm Louie," he said. Noting the confusion on Maka and Soul's faces, he backtracked. "Miller. M'name's Louie Miller. Fitz was a friend of mine." He nodded to the piano. "Got him his job here after our old pianist shipped off. Since there was already a Louie here, we got to calling him Fitz." His eyes clouded with emotion. "You…uh…you sure he's dead?"

Maka looked uneasily at her partner. She tugged at her pigtail. "From what we've been told, it would seem so. I'm sorry."

Louie sighed, his amiable smile sagging. "Guess it was too much to hope that you'd say otherwise. But there's not much sense in spending my time moping. You two are gonna need help if you're gonna catch the guy who did this." He gestured toward the bar. "Drink?"

Maka blanched. She opened her mouth to try and turn it down before Soul decided to do something foolish, but he spoke first.

"No thanks. We want to be thinkin' straight if we're gonna help." He shot a grin in Maka's direction and she gave him a small, private smile of gratitude. Louie chuckled a little.

"You mind if we still talk at the bar? I need to do a little tidying, truth be told."

Maka slid onto a stool, her feet perched carefully on the bar. In contrast, Soul slouched in his, legs akimbo. Maka realized with a start that he looked very out of place there—the Dive's interior reminded her so much of the Black Room that she half expected to see Soul in his pinstripe suit rather than jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt. She put her head on her hand, the images of him in a suit swirling in her mind. Glass clinked noisily as Louie started dusting off the bar. He shot Maka a questioning look and she straightened, a slight blush on her face, internally burning with embarrassment for being caught _ogling her weapon_.

"Were you aware of anyone following Mr. Fitzgerald?" Her voice was like steel as she mentally castigated herself. In the corner of her eye, though, she could see that Soul's attention was periodically fading. He seemed content to take in the atmosphere of the room, eyes roaming. Maka made a mental note to scold him later and hoped that he wouldn't notice her own transgression.

"No," Louie said, thoughtfully wiping out a glass. "As far as I was aware, there wasn't anything unusual going on in Fitz's life. That's not to say that there wasn't anything going on, though," he gave Maka a meaningful look. "Fitz was a very…reserved person."

Maka tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Louie sighed as he put the glass under the bar. "Wasn't he supposed to have a protective detail on him, sent by your crew? But he shot you down, right?" An acute sadness filled Louie's eyes. "He knew the danger, but he just went along as normal. He wasn't one to take a whole lot of care for himself. Most of the time, Fitz just drifted through life—you play?"

The question was directed at Soul, who looked back with a surprised look. "Uh…yeah. How'd ya know?"

Louie chuckled a bit, though the sound was tired. "Your eyes keep wandering over to look at the piano. Fitz always said it was one of the finest set of ivories he'd seen outside of Julliard."

Awe bloomed in Soul's face. "He went to Julliard?"

Louie nodded. "Yep. He was Jenny's pride and joy. She used to tell me that I found her the greatest treasure she could hope for. Resident pianist from Julliard and a damn good one, at that. Fitz did exceptionally well there." He jerked his head at the piano. "You wanna give it a plink?"

Soul looked torn, not sure if the grandeur of the piano was worth actually playing in front of _people_. But when Maka nudged him and murmured that he should do it, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slid off his stool.

"You mind switching off the stage lights?" Soul asked, his voice somewhat embarrassed. "They're hot and blinding." As Louie left to hit the light switch, Soul nudged Maka with his hip.

"Don't let this interrupt your questionin', 'kay?" He sent her an even look. "Find out what ya can."

Maka waved an ungloved hand at him. "Don't worry, Soul, I've got it covered. Go play."

Soul nodded jerkily and slouched over to the piano. Louie slid in quietly next to her and watched with her as the weapon ran his hand down the length of the piano. His eyes were obscured by his tousled thatch of white hair, but she could see the reverence with which he gently touched the keys. She wondered when she had last heard him play outside of the Black Room.

"He good?" Louie asked from her side. He poured himself a glass of some sort of golden liquid. Maka tried not to wrinkle her nose at the strong alcohol scent that wafted in her direction.

"I wouldn't be the one to ask," Maka admitted. "I don't know all that much about music. I know that I like to hear him play."

That was a lie. She loved to hear him play. Ever since they first met, when he looked her in the eye and played for her the song of who he thought he was, she had been absolutely fascinated. Her eyes followed his long-fingered hands as they slid along the keys noiselessly. She wished she could see the expression on his face as he tentatively pressed a key, testing its sound.

And then he was playing, a soft song that took Maka a little off guard. What with the atmosphere and his own personal preferences, Maka figured that he would start playing something dark. Yet the music that filled the club was gentle and slow. Beside her, Louie gave a whistle of appreciation.

"Bill Evans, huh? The kid's good."

Maka looked confused. "Bill Evans?" She scanned her mind for the few references the Soul had ever made to his family. She knew he had a brother, but she thought his name was Wes.

"Famous jazz pianist. One of the best, actually. And he does this song justice."

Ah. Soul would have told her if there was a famous pianist in his family; it would have been 'cool' to do so, after all. Maka relaxed a bit, knowing that she hadn't been hopelessly unaware of her weapon's familial relationships. Louie stared into his glass, swirling its contents with a frown. Maka remembered a question that she had wanted to ask before.

"Who is Jenny?" She recalled that she had spoken to a woman named Lucy over the phone; she didn't recall hearing about a Jenny.

"Jenny Diver," Louie supplied. He pointed a finger at a neon sign by the door. It read "The Dive" in flowing, fluorescent script. "She owns the place."

Maka smiled. "The name makes more sense now. I was wondering why so nice a place had such an inept label."

Amusement danced across Louie's lips. "She thought it would be funny. Jenny's a sharp lady. I like her. And she liked Fitz quite a bit, truth be told. Jenny was about as sweet on Fitz as she possibly could be." The sparkle of amusement died. "Fitz was a good guy. He kept to himself, but when he was here, he was all smiles and politeness. I can't imagine why this Mack fellow would target him."

"He had an unusual soul." Maka looked thoughtful. "Truth be told, Shibusen doesn't know a whole lot about Mack, but what Pa—what Deathscythe told me was that Mack's victims tended to be humans of greater than average soul power. Mr. Fitzgerald could have been a meister if he had liked."

Soul's music quieted, the song over. His fingers still played with the keys idly, stringing small chords together. They picked up into something more coherent, a melody beginning to flow. Inspiration flashed across his face, and he launched into another piece. It was flowing and delicate and decidedly less jazzy than the first one he had played. Maka looked askance at Louie, who shrugged.

"I only knew the Evans piece because he was a favorite of Fitz's. This isn't jazz, so I haven't a damn clue. I'm just a bartender." He turned a morose gaze to Soul. "And it seems like we're gonna need another resident pianist. I think Jenny'd like him. If you wanted to come and scope out the place at night while he played, I'm sure she'd be cool with it."

Maka blanched. "We don't know how long we'd be staying."

"We wouldn't be asking him to stay on permanently. It's just that, well this is a jazz club. We need musicians playing here to keep the place going. A big part of the draw here was that we have resident musicians that play every night. Jenny's called in a few favors to bring in some people for the next couple nights, but we're gonna run dry of quality soon and we haven't the damndest idea how long it's going to take us to find another permanent guy. If we have you two, though, that's some buffer time. It's mutually beneficial, too. You get the chance to scope out the joint to see if you pick up any clues about Mack and we keep our good name." His eyes hardened. "And hopefully we'll catch the son of a bitch that did this to Fitz."

"That might be useful," Maka fiddled with her sleeve, "since from what I've been told, Mack's last two victims before Fitz, the ones that alerted Shibusen in the first place, both had connections here."

Louie looked at her in surprise. "They did?"

Maka nodded. "Both Frank Darin and Ella Clooney were evidently regulars here."

The rage in the bartender's face was more thinly veiled than the line of his tightly pressed lips. "Well, that explains why I haven't seen Ella in a week or so. You're sure that Mack got them?"

Acute sadness filled Maka when her eyes met Louie's. He'd lost too many friends to Mack already; the Dive was important to him, and he wanted revenge for his sanctum being defiled. It was with reluctance that Maka informed him that the disappearance of the two regulars matched the previous disappearances of Mack's victims in the past—they had ties to a central location, they had souls of unusual power that completely vanished from any Soul Perception radar. Both had suspicions that they were being watched that they had voiced to friends and family.

Louie swore colorfully. "Fitz shoulda said something. We could have maybe helped him if he had…."

Maka placed a hand on his arm to calm him. "We'll do our best to stop Mack, Mr. Miller. We promise."

It was not the comforting hand, but the diamond-hard conviction in her eyes that caused him to smile.

* * *

"No. No, Maka, I'm not doin' that." Soul's expression was set with a mixture of indignation and horror. "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

They were back in the hotel room when Maka mentioned Louie's offer to Soul. He didn't take it well.

"But it makes a lot of sense! And it'd be good cover for us. So wh—"

"Yeah, it'd be good cover," Soul raged, "but it would mean leaving you alone. I'm not gonna be able to pay attention to you if I'm tryin' not to fuck up on a stage."

Maka was nestled in her bed, her bare toes wiggling, happy to be free of her boots. The movement contrasted the stubborn expression with which she stared her partner down. Soul was pacing the space between their two beds, his scowl growing in fury by the minute.

"You know how dangerous this guy is—doesn't even show up on Azusa's radar. He could sneak up on you at any second."

Maka scoffed. "I can take care of myself, I think." Her face was starting to mirror Soul's scowl. She pulled her book from the bedside table and waved it for good measure. Soul barked in sardonic laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, I know just how dangerous you are with one of those things. But if you can't sense the guy, how're you gonna Chop him before he makes you disappear like the others? How am I gonna get to you in time before he does something that a bunch of pages can't block?" He stopped pacing, a still-booted foot scuffing at the table. Something that Maka couldn't quite identify crept into his expression.

Her fingers tangled in the blankets absentmindedly. "I'll be extra careful." An earnest look washed over her face and she leaned closer to Soul.

Whirling, Soul found himself much closer to her plaintive green stare than he had been expecting. He took an awkward step back and sat onto the edge of his bed, trying to fight down his rising blush. Maka crept closer, leaning over the side of her own bed.

"No," he mumbled, face resting in his hands. "No, I'm not okay with this. I'm your weapon. I need to protect you. My place is by your side, not playin' the piano up there like some trained monkey."

Maka frowned. "But you seemed to be happy playing up there today."

Looking through cracked fingers at her, he sighed. "I had stuff to get off my mind. Playin' was nice, but there's a big difference between that and playing all night with the lights on and an audience." A grimace stretched his face. "Especially a drunk audience."

Maka rolled her eyes. "If you can deal with a drunk Black Star, I'm sure you can handle a roomful of normal drunk people."

Soul's eyes widened in incredulity. "You think I can deal with him? I just zone out and hope I don't have to bail him out of anything before the night is through." Maka opened her mouth to argue, but Soul cut her off. "We're off the subject. I wouldn't feel right, leaving you alone to do all the work."

Maka grinned. "Actually, I think you'd be fine with leaving me to do all the work. Lazy bum."

"Only because you're a workaholic bookworm," he challenged. A smile teased the corners of his mouth as Maka stuck her tongue out. She had moved to the edge of her bed, close enough that if Soul were to lean forward more, their foreheads would be touching. The scent of her hair was strong enough to be distracting. He let his hands drop into his lap. She leaned in closer.

"Soul, we're not going to get an opportunity like this again. Louie said that Jenny doesn't want us 'skulking through her club and scaring off business,' but if you're helping bringing business in, we'll have a way to keep an eye on the Dive." She reached a calloused hand out to his, smiling as his gaze met hers. Their fingers interlaced.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Maka," he murmured. She blew in his face playfully.

"We've been doing this for years, Soul. I get hurt all the time. You can't protect me from everything."

His response was a growl. "Doesn't mean I can't try."

He knew that she was right; they needed a plan and unfortunately, this was the best one they had. But the thought of leaving her alone, to make whatever piss-poor dumbass decisions she wanted without him to protect her made his scar ache. It was the weapon's job to protect their meister, and his pigtailed nuisance ensured that he had his work cut out for him.

"I like holding hands like this," Maka murmured. Her faint blush matched Soul's own. "It's like resonance."

Soul nodded in agreement, his fingers tightening in hers. He could hear her ponderous music and he let his eyes shut, feeling the caress of her soul against his. Like a magnet, they were inevitably drawn into the resonance and he chuckled despite himself. Thrumming through the link was the relief that both of them shared—they had both missed it.

_I guess I can be a little clingy too, _Maka supplied, her gaze steady despite her blush. _Can you…hear my music right now?_

Soul rolled his eyes. _Of course I can. _

Her blush deepened. _May I hear it? _Soul sent a vibration of bemusement alongside the sensation of her music. She sat in silence a moment before humming along quietly. _My sense of music is heightened when we resonate._ The thought was tinged with wonder.

_That's not sayin' much, Maka. You don't know shit about music. _Though his words were harsh, Soul let Maka feel the deep affection behind them—how flattered he felt it was when she would endeavor to understand his music a little more. Maka tugged at their link playfully, a thin façade of anger over her gratitude and relief.

_Do you think we could do this while you played? _The question was tentative, expecting Soul to shoot it down as vehemently as he had when she suggested that he play. Though she kept her feelings on the matter guarded in their resonance, he had a vague sense that she expected that his real problem with her suggestion had been about the actual playing of the piano itself and not as much about her safety. He sent her a little twinge of exasperation.

_Need I remind you of the last time we resonated?_ He let a little of his roaring protectiveness through the link again, Maka responding with a nonverbal, peevish apology. It was short, however, easily taken over by an eager repetition of her question.

_Would you feel more comfortable if we resonated like this while you played? You'd know immediately if I were in danger…and it would keep a clear channel of communication between us. If worse comes to worse, we could always use the Black Room. _She felt a slight sneer from Soul at this.

_I'd prefer to keep my little friend as far away from this as possible. You know how much of a liability he is. _

Maka arched a brow. _Liability?_

_Your stupid bookworm words rub off on me too much when we resonate. Get off my back. _Though his words were gruff, he grinned. _But yeah, I think we could do this while we played. Sometimes the fact that you're such a teacher's pet works out for the better._

_You mean that it saves both our asses, _Maka teased, her side of the link colorful with memories of previous missions. _Need I remind you of that time in Cambodia with the Sirens?_

_NO. _Soul's end of the link petulantly closed for a moment, causing Maka to giggle.

_No need to be like that, _she chided. There was a mischievous spark in her green eyes and Soul had to hold himself in check to keep the connection from flooding with his feelings of just how damn adorable she could be.

_You'd better call that Jenny lady and tell her that she's got a temporary piano candidate coming in tonight._

* * *

Soft jazz music flooded the room, a curvaceous vocalist crooning to a backdrop of a tenor saxophone and piano. Under the bright stage lights, the stark white of the pianist's hair was blinding, contrasting the expression of stoic concentration on his face. The audience whispered through glasses of liquor—this odd-looking pianist was new. Some of the more informed in the audience discussed the quality of his playing, saying that though he didn't have the technical ability to match a Juliard graduate, he certainly played with a lot of soul. Most agreed that it was nice to have a pianist that looked less haggard than Fitzgerald, though many of their souls thrummed with concern for Fitzgerald's health. He hadn't looked well in recent days, evidently.

The new boy was an oddity with his white hair and razor teeth, but this was the music scene—eccentrics were a dime a dozen. More striking, at least to a portion of the audience, was the strong build of his shoulders and the musculature of his legs through his sleek suit pants. Remarks that he'd be quite handsome if he didn't look so very serious flowed through in bits of conversation that Maka could pick up.

Maka's face burned as she overheard a couple of tipsy women a few tables away remark on the ways they'd like to wipe that serious expression off of the pianist's face.

The Dive had a very different sort of atmosphere during its hours of operation. People were everywhere, the once intimate corners now overstuffed with customers. Maka was painfully aware that not only was The Dive a well-known jazz bar—it was a popular one. Face drawn into a grimace, she wondered if her decision to watch the club directly really was a good idea. Soul had taken the crowded nature of the place surprisingly well, but Maka started to feel somewhat claustrophobic. Her irritation flowed in waves through their link.

_You're the one who thought this was the best idea,_ Soul responded teasingly. He'd kept a tight lid on his side of the link all night. When she had sent him a small prod of questioning, he had shrugged her off, saying that he needed focus to play the piano well.

_That doesn't even make sense, _Maka whined, her bored eyes scanning the club once again. _Wouldn't it require more focus if you didn't control the feedback?_

_Not if I'm worrying about your every reaction to them. Don't you have some observing to do, Maka? I thought we were doing all this so that you could watch for Mack, not complain all night. _He shot her a look from over the piano, careful to disguise it in a general sweep of the crowd. The smile he attempted to flash was a little too intimidating to come off as personable, though. It was plain to see, even to the musically oblivious Maka, that Soul played exceptionally well, but his presentational skills left much to be desired. The tipsy women in the audience could assume that Soul was serious, tightly wound, and in need of a little "relaxation," but Maka knew her partner well enough to tell that he was unequivocally sullen. If there was a pouty way to play the piano, Soul was probably doing an excellent job of it right then.

_It's nice to hear you play something different,_ she sent encouragingly. He scoffed a bit, but her side of the link shimmered earnestly, his outcries muffled into small, grumbling vibrations. _You always play somewhat discordant, dark music whenever we do team resonance_. Maka tried to keep her tone as light as possible, knowing that her partner was sensitive about his music. Just as she predicted, his side of the link reared defensively. On the piano, his hands seemed to move somewhat more stiffly. She sent another wave of reassurance. _I _like_ hearing your dark music, Soul. It's part of who you are. _

_It _is _who I am, _he growled back at her, though his tone was missing its edge. Maka sent him a quick mental image of her leaning over her table, looking tired except for her watchful eyes. She rolled them in an exaggerated fashion and she watched the corner of Soul's mouth twitch upward briefly.

_I know who you are, Soul. But sometimes it's nice to hear what else you can play. You hardly ever play the piano for me when we're not in team resonance. _Maka slumped against her chair, her eyes scanning the room again for anything unusual. She slipped briefly into Soul Perception and Soul, feeling that she was focused on something else, backed off the conversation for a moment. The link hummed pleasantly between them.

When Maka came out of Perception with nothing of note, fingers rubbing at her temples, she sighed. Soul, reading her frustration, tugged at their link with the image of bringing her closer. A flash of longing went through Maka, and she realized just how much she wished she could rest her head on Soul's shoulder.

A small blush crept on her cheeks when she realized that the desire had flown unrestricted through their link.

Fingers dancing lightly at the piano, her partner's face quirked into a smile. It stayed there, small but noticeable, and the notes flowed from his fingers more smoothly. _I played for you on your birthday, remember?_

_I don't think that playing 'Happy Birthday' because Black Star practically glued you to the piano bench counts, Soul. _She tried to keep the petulance out of her side of the link, but some of it must have flowed unbidden, because Soul's rough laughter shook their link.

_Do you really want me to play something for you, Maka?_ The question was gentler than she would have expected it to be. Though she bristled at his amused tone, she responded honestly.

_Of course. I've only been trying to get you to do it for years._

For a moment, the link was quiet. Maka did another quick scan of the room, startled a bit when the audience broke out into loud applause. Soul was standing, and gave a quick little bow before turning to the other players on the stage with him. The curvy vocalist arched a brow at him as he quietly explained something to her. Maka felt a small twinge of what she pretended wasn't jealousy when she watched Soul's cheeks color and the _very curvy _redhead's mouth curl into a sultry smile.

Soul gave a curt nod to the percussionist, who readjusted his set with a grin. The bassist plucked a few experimental notes as Soul seated himself at the piano again. Leaning into the microphone, the vocalist breathily addressed the audience.

"We'll be doing a slow number for you lovers out there in the audience." She winked a heavily lined eye and strode smoothly off the stage. Maka watched the woman slink up to the bar, hips swaying. Louie, in the middle of pouring a balding man a drink, smiled at her approach.

Her attention was drawn away from their exchange by a light tug to their link. Unbound hair falling to one shoulder, Maka swiveled to face where her partner sat on-stage. His eyes met hers in a piercing stare and she felt their resonance shimmer. _Come here,_ he beckoned, rolling his eyes when Maka started to push out of her chair. _No, not here on the stage, _here—

Resonance snapping into a streamlined cadence, Soul began to play a soft jazz song, Maka's back straightened, and the two of them stood together in the Black Room.

* * *

With this, I've exhausted my buffer of what I had written of this story thus far. I am also starting up another writing project, so my updates may be a little on the slow side. Endless thanks to the lovely odat for her assistance in my editing and her support in the writing of this. See ya next time. :)


	4. Eros

Author Notes: The Basie referenced herein is none other than Count Basie, considered to be one of the 'kings of swing.' As for the Bill Evans song...well...you'll just have to wait to hear its title. I have not come into sudden ownership of anything lately, so as always: Soul Eater isn't mine, none of the music is mine, etc.

Edit: Fixed the sentence that got all wonky in the last section. Thanks for letting me know, Marsh of Sleep!

* * *

Her hands twitched;

Her hands that were folded neatly on a table in the Dive.

Her hands that pressed softly against the ivories of a piano, blending with the soft bass.

Melded emotions expressed in melody, reflecting scarred chests and gloved hands.

Affection and attraction and fear combined and she could remember toes curling on the bar of a kitchen chair- a sleepless, concerned night in Death City.

She remembered golden, glimmering hair in the sunlight—a curved back and a quiet morning in an unfamiliar place.

Her hands hung loosely at her sides as she stood in the sanctum of his soul.

Eyes met, crimson and olive, and she set the boundary. She pulled at the resonance, trying to delineate what was _her._

Past and present wrenched apart as she separated herself from _him._

The hands jammed in pants pockets weren't _hers._

She delineated what was _her_ and what was her weapon.

And smiled sheepishly at him when she succeeded. She flexed her fingers experimentally—first as the her in the Dive, then as the her that stood in the Black Room. Maka kept her focus on the present, pushing out the emotions and memories that were not hers.

The fabric of the Black Dress fluttered softly at Maka's feet, curling like smoke. Through Soul's natural sense of rhythm, she could sense that there was a pattern to its billowing. Soul closed the distance between them, placing an arm on her shoulder. In the Dive, the same spot tingled with phantom sensation. Maka felt their souls pulse in time to the slow beat of a song.

In the Black Room, Soul was pulling her closer, a hand placed lightly on her waist. Music swelled around them. Maka smiled as she realized that it was the music that he was playing on the stage. She offered him her hand and he took it with a slight smirk.

_I'll lead this time._ Maka rolled her eyes at the amusement in his tone, but she placed her hand on the crook of his arm nevertheless. She let him pull her into the first few steps of a swaying dance.

_Mm. Dancing is good for resonance,_ she teased.

_You were the one who said that she wanted to raise our resonance levels, after all, _his response was quick, smirk widening into a grin. _Can't say I mind this as much, though._

_Another thing you'll only do with me in the Black Room, _she chided. Her eyes drifted to their feet, trying her best to not step on her partner's foot. She didn't need to see his face to perceive his eyeroll. _I thought you said that you didn't want your little friend involved in all this?_

The shrugging motion he made caused his hand to slide up her waist slightly. Maka found it odd how acutely aware she was of the thumb pressing gently against her ribs. She chalked the hypersensitivity up to the nature of the Black Room, putting it out of her mind as she tilted her head to the side. She made a small noise of encouragement._I pushed him outta here. Little shit's probably pouting outside the door, knowin' him. But I don't think he's gonna interrupt us. Too much of your wavelength around for his liking._

Maka looked questioningly at him and he sighed.

_This song reminds me of you. That's…uh…why I'm playin' it out there. Playin' it for you, I mean._ Embarrassment tinged his cheeks. _I guess I could have said something about it…or had Lottie say something, but I figured that I could just explain it here. And then Lottie said what she said…_

Maka's embarrassment mirrored Soul's for a moment, but then her brows furrowed. _Lottie?_

Soul pushed a mental image of the curvy vocalist towards Maka's end of the link. The Black Room amplified the communication and a sudden burst of sensation hit Maka. Soul's disdain for the woman's cloying attitude hit her hard enough that she found herself was lounging at the bar, a wide smile on her face as she chatted with Louie. Hit with sudden suspicion, Maka slid into Soul Perception again.

In the Black Room, her foot scuffed awkwardly, hitching their dance. Soul's arms tightened on her to keep her from falling. _What is it?_

_Lottie and Louie both have…unusual souls._

Soul's brows furrowed.

_How unusual? Are they—_

_No,_ Maka cut him off quickly, sending him an extra forceful surge of reassurance. _They're human. But their souls are much stronger than they would have otherwise been. Apparently Louie Fitzgerald wasn't the only one with potential. I'll have to keep an eye on the both of them._

Soul nodded. _I'll ask Lottie if she's had anything unusual happen to her recently. _Their rhythm returned, Soul relaxed his hold on Maka a little.

She hummed, pleasantly harmonizing with the music that filled both the Black Room and the Dive.

_Thank you._ The sentiment was accompanied with gratitude and appreciation.

Embarrassment tinged Soul's tone. _It's not like I wrote this for you or anything. _He restrained a flinch when Maka moved closer, her thighs lightly brushing his.

_But you're still playing for me,_ she murmured. A smile tugged at her lips and Soul, outside of resonance, shot a glance at her from across the room to see that same smile. Their eyes met in a shared gaze in both levels of reality.

_I'll try to do that more often._ His words were soft and Maka, giving in to the urge that she had earlier, leaned her head on his chest gently. Unsure of what to do he stiffened, but when Maka peered up at him curiously, he relaxed again with a bashful grin. She felt his chuckle rumble through his chest, their bond vibrating alongside it.

Soul blamed Maka's complex network of awareness for their closeness, and he couldn't hide the sneaking suspicion that she was going to Chop him for this later, even though it was all her fault.

_Not gonna chop you,_ she assured him. The lulling security of their resonance made her voice sound drowsy. For a brief moment, Soul's heart leapt into his throat.

The song was coming to a close, but they kept swaying, despite the dying of the music. Outside of their resonance, Maka rubbed at a too-warm collarbone. Her sigh echoed through both their souls.

_I don't want to leave, but—_

_We've got work to do. _He smiled sheepishly. Despite their words neither moved from the embrace, though outside, Soul was standing to polite applause and Lottie was sashaying her way back on-stage. Maka made a strangled sort of noise when the woman winked at Soul. She pulled herself from Soul's arms with a look of embarrassment. His own expression had gone a little distant.

_The pest is trying to come in now. You might wanna..._

Maka gave a sound of understanding to accompany her quick nod. She detached herself from the Room slowly, her soul giving his a lingering caress as they settled back into a normal resonance. For a moment she felt empty without the cadence of her partner's emotions alongside hers. But she rolled her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, scanning the room with both eyes and her Perception. The band cued up a more upbeat tune. Maka sent a quick nonverbal cue to check in on Soul.

_Everything's fine,_ he assured her, _Little Oni's just pouting. Being his typically unpleasant self. He wants me to play some swing._

_Eh, maybe you should throw him a bone for good behavior, _she teased. Her thin fingers reached to rub at her neck.

_His behavior is never good,_ he scoffed.

But his music changed to something a little bit more upbeat, and Maka, while doing another scan of the room, could have sworn she heard someone mention how much they liked 'Basie's swing.'

* * *

Jenny Diver was one of the most solidly built women Maka had ever seen in her life. She gave off the aura of someone who had been molded by hardship, and Maka could sense that diamond-sharpness in her soul. It was also apparent that Jenny was one of an alarming number of people who were involved with the Dive that had an unusually strong soul.

Maka would have broached the topic for discussion if she wasn't trying to not wilt under the woman's imposing gaze. Beside her, Soul did a good job of seeming outwardly aloof, but Maka could sense the wavering concern he felt. It had been the first time in years that he'd been judged for his playing ability and he was nothing if not apprehensive.

The band had finished their set about an hour before closing. Soul had bee-lined for Maka's table in the back, ignoring her mental suggestions that he stay away to keep their cover. He'd collapsed into the chair beside her, voice muffled by the tablecloth as he laid his head down.

"You're gonna be conspicuous if you're here every night anyway. If anyone asks, we'll just say you're my girlfriend or some shit." His voice had been hoarse enough that Maka let him stay there, motioning for a waitress and quietly asking for some water. Shortly after this, the curvy vocalist made her way to their table. Looking imperiously at Maka, she extended a slender hand.

"Lottie Lenya," she had crooned, her gaze straying to the slumped figure of Maka's partner. "Jenny says she wants you two to stay past closing." She had let her hand brush against Soul's shoulder as she withdrew from Maka's firmer-than-normal handshake. "You played pretty well tonight, kid."

Soul hadn't bothered to lift his head from the table, grunting his thanks through the cloth. Maka had taken some enjoyment in Lottie's affronted expression as she'd walked away.

The club thinned out slowly; some of the patrons had approached the table to speak to the new pianist, but most were repelled quickly by the sullen slant of his mouth. Cabs were called for the patrons too drunk to get themselves home safely as the wait staff came in to do a final cleaning of the tables.

Soul had been picking at a plate of food, surreptitiously listening to Maka's ponderous music, when the namesake of the establishment strode up to where they were seated.

"Jenny Diver," she said sharply. Soul raised a hooded gaze and extended a hand. Their handshake was brisk.

"Soul Evans." His voice was even, but Maka could see in his eyes the conflicted feelings that came with such an introduction. "Did you find my performance tonight satisfactory?"

Maka tried not to giggle at her partner's stiff formality. Soul Eater, Deathscythe and all-around 'cool guy,' had faced down gods of madness and death with less decorum. The meister concluded that she liked Jenny already.

Her amusement died somewhat when she, too, was subject to the woman's scrutiny.

Jenny responded, still staring Maka down, "Your technique is nothing to sneeze at, boy, but you've gotta work on your stage personality. You'll kill all of Lottie's hard work if you just scowl your way through the whole thing." Maka released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when Jenny's gaze slid from her and fixed on her partner instead. His hand grasped at Maka's knee under the table.

"You'll also need to stop giving your partner googoo eyes all the time. I know that you weapon-meister pairs are close with whatever special soul things you do, but for your own sake, you might want to be slightly less obvious."

Both weapon and meister sputtered at this, cheeks turning a matching shade of red. Jenny huffed at them, but her posture loosened. The hand on Maka's knee relaxed, but didn't leave. She was glad for the contact.

"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am." Soul flashed the woman his most winning smile, but Jenny seemed unimpressed. She arched a brow at him.

"None of that ma'am stuff, kid. My name's Jenny and that's what you'll call me, you understand?"

Soul nodded, swallowing at the woman's tone. Arms folded, Jenny moved her gaze to Maka. The young meister's spine straightened.

"Your name's Maka Albarn, right?" The tone was a bit gentler than Maka had been expecting. Her hand was rough in Maka's as they shook.

"Yes, Jenny. I'm Soul's partner."

Jenny gave a sharp bark of laughter, "That's for damn sure!"

Maka managed to pull off enough nonchalance to shrug. "We've been together awhile. The eye contact is second nature to us. We'll be more aware of it in the future."

Jenny nodded. "Good." She jerked her head towards the exit. "It's late. You two should split—if you're gonna be my temporary pianist, I don't want you looking half dead tomorrow."

Soul kept himself from groaning as he stood, Maka following suit. "Thanks," he said, gratitude in his eyes. Jenny gave a severe snort.

"No need to thank me—I'm mainly keeping you because eye candy keeps the customers coming. I'm no fool; I heard many a compliment about that ass of yours tonight. But your being grouchy and tired isn't gonna win you many appeal points." She pointed a knobby finger at him threateningly. "Remember to work on that smile of yours. I'm gonna expect you at six sharp tomorrow night to start setting up and run through a more streamlined set. I don't know what that Bill Evans shit you pulled was."

Maka grasped at Soul's hand despite Jenny's glare. "I dunno…I liked it." Her stomach did a miniscule flop at the look of gratitude in her partner's eyes. Jenny remained stoic, simply jerking her head in the direction of the door and folding her arms over an imposing chest. Fingers still interlaced, the two gathered their things and left, Jenny's hard gaze following them as they went.

* * *

Soul would have spent more time considering the more positive implications of waking up to the sight of his meister's face on the pillow next to his if she hadn't been scowling like no tomorrow. And holding a mangled toothbrush within his line of sight.

The weapon groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his face.

"You had better tell me that this is not the only toothbrush you brought with you, Soul."

He growled. "It's not, okay? I've got a spare in my bag."

Booted feet kicked at his mattress with a huff. Maka used the end of the brush to poke at Soul's ribs, doing so again despite his pained yelp.

"_A_ spare, Soul?" He could hear the arching of her brows in her tone. "You're going to need more than one, Soul _Eater; _you've already made a mess of this one_._"

The incredulity in her voice was enough to make Soul lower the covers enough so that he could blearily glare at her. In his mind, he weighed the pros and cons of kicking her until she left his bed, but hearing the irritated flow of her music was enough to give him pause. She poked him again for good measure.

"Maka, stop bein' a hellcat and just tell me what you want." Despite the apathy in his tone, he did his best to move out of her poking range. Being poised on the edge of the bed was the better option when faced with the prospect of being jabbed in the ribs. Maka frowned, but didn't move to make another shot at him.

"You know what I want. Get your lazy butt out of bed so that we can buy you enough toothbrushes to last the rest of this mission." She pulled at his arm peevishly, standing in the hopes that he would follow her motion and sit up. Instead his arm was limp in her grasp, her tugging causing little more than a look of irritation to settle into the weapon's expression. Maka made a frustrated noise, more cute than imposing. Soul laughed at this, sitting up just so he could better see the flustered look on her face.

His eyes were hooded, hair mussed from sleep. Maka did her best to look cross with him, but giggled a little when her partner yawned and rubbed at his eyes. Throwing the abused toothbrush at him, Maka headed for the door.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee. You want any?"

Soul shook his head sullenly. He yawned again, fingers plucking at the blankets as he worked up the energy to leave the warmth of his bed. Maka smiled despite herself.

"You'd better be out of bed by the time I get back, Soul." Her tone made her words fonder than they should have been.

* * *

Jenny's office was hidden behind one of the thick red curtains in the Dive. It was small, and though the furniture was of a good make, the room was relatively Spartan. She rarely spent time in it- Jenny preferred to do most of the official work of the club at home when she could. The room was kept mainly for convenience and as a storage location for the duplicate files.

It was unusual enough for Louie to be in the office that he actually felt nervous there, despite having worked for Jenny for upwards of a dozen years. She was imposing enough without the intense backdrop of her high-backed chair. The deep scowl on her face made something in the pit of Louie's stomach writhe. Clearing his throat to break the silence, he approached her desk.

"What is it that you need?" She looked at him from the corner of her eye, not turning to face him properly. Scattered across the desk were papers in atypical disarray. Louie spotted a page with Fitz's loopy handwriting scrawled across it.

"I just wanted to ask…" his voice faltered for a moment and he cleared his throat again, "…ask if we're gonna be okay."

Jenny turned at this, her expression stern. "We're doing just fine, Louie. The numbers are solid. That Evans kid you brought in might be a load of Shibusen trouble, but he did good last night." She gestured towards a newspaper that laid atop a small stack of forms. "The critic who was scheduled to come in gave a good review. Said he was a breath of fresh air and expected good things from the kid in the future." Jenny snorted derisively.

Louie lifted the paper, looking askance at the stack below. They were application forms for other pianists that Jenny kept on file in the event that she needed to hire someone new. Louie spied the forms for a vocalist or two in the mix. He leafed through these, ignoring the irked glare of his boss. "That's not what I meant, Jenny."

She was quiet while he continued to flip through the pages. The cracking of her neck echoed through the room as she sighed. "I know, Louie. And to answer your question, I really don't know."

"I got a call from Shibusen today, telling me that I needed to be aware a dangerous kishin egg in the area and that I was to report to the agents they had sent in if I was concerned." An ironic smile twisted his thin lips. "They were a little surprised to find out that I worked here."

Jenny's expression darkened. "They don't care as much when you don't have a big name attached to you, like Fitz did."

Louie looked scandalized. "You aren't suggesting that he—"

She cut him off with a glare. "Don't you dare. You know that I loved him like a son. I'm not a crying kind of lady, but I shed a tear or three when I heard." Her fingers twitched. "But I've got a business to run and not enough time to mourn. On top of this killer to keep an eye out for, I've got that meister and her weapon to worry about." The hand that had lay on Fitz' old application reached up to rub at her temples. It struck Louie that he couldn't recall the last time she looked this weary.

"Those two seem like they've got their heads screwed on right, at least."

Jenny snorted. "Sure they do. When they're not busy fawning over each other, like every weapon and meister pair on the goddamn planet." Louie chuckled at Jenny's discontent.

"They're young. Besides, I think they did a good job of keeping an eye on the club last night. Her Perception is really thorough."

Louie had been keeping an eye on the young meister and her weapon partner through the night. His power wasn't anything special—he had a vague idea of the fluctuations of the power of souls around him. The only reason that he could pick up on Maka's Perception was because he'd had a long history of being around someone who had the same ability.

Jenny ran her hand through her hair with a sour expression. "She spent almost all of last night bonded to her weapon. You probably couldn't tell her soul from his."

Louie rolled his eyes. "Not everyone can have flawless Perception like you, Jenny." The woman gave him a sobering look, bitterness in her words.

"Flawless my ass." She took the paper that Louie still held in his hands and deposited it back on top of the stack of applications. Her eyes held an emotion that Louie couldn't quite interpret as she straightened the stray sheets on her desk. "Stop leaning on the furniture, Louie."

Louie's smile was melancholy. "Yes, ma'am."

"Told you not to call me that," she admonished gruffly. "I'll get to you before the demon does if you keep this up, moron." Concern darkened her tone. "The Dive isn't a haven this time."

"There's nothing you can do?" Louie stepped back from the desk. Jenny's laugh was humorless.

"No, Louie. This time you're on your own."

* * *

Soul wondered how he'd managed to end up burdened with the entirety of their groceries—or how they ended up with groceries in the first place. Normally Maka was pretty stingy with the money they spent on missions, and as far as Soul had been aware, they'd been going to the store to get him another _toothbrush._

Maka was bent over her phone as Soul leaned against the outer wall of the store. The weapon let some of the bags drop to the ground. They'd been heavy enough to cut off the circulation in his fingers, etched white lines from the handles contrasting the otherwise flushed red of his skin. He flexed them stiffly as his meister pondered the best route back to the hotel.

"Maka, why don't we just call a cab?" A bag crinkled as he nudged it with his booted foot. "We've got frozen stuff in here and it's gonna melt." Maka gave him a scathing look, holding her phone high above her head in the hopes of somehow getting better service.

"That's just going to waste money." Soul restrained a groan at his meister's stubbornness.

"Maka, we just bought groceries when we can get dinner from any tons of places in the area. Wasting money is not the issue here." Maka aimed a kick in the direction of his left shin, which he narrowly dodged. Her foot connected with one of the bags, which fell over with a loud thunk. There was mischief in Soul's grin. "I think that was your macaroni and cheese, Maka."

His meister growled in frustration, but kept her feet to herself as she looked at her phone.

"Stupid page won't load," she grumbled. A defeated look crossed her features and she leaned against the wall beside her weapon. She sullenly handed her phone to Soul. "Fine. Call a cab."

"All this would have been solved if I'd just been able to take my bike up here," he said, giving his meister the best impression of her know-it-all look that he could muster. She stuck her tongue out in a petulant response.

Soul tapped at her phone for a moment, looking for the number of the cab company that Maka had called to pick them up from the airport. He found it and mouthed 'don't kick me' in her direction with a stern look.

"I won't," she grumbled, crossing her arms at her chest. With a booted foot she moved their bags into the shadow of the wall's awning. Soul kept his call with the cab company short.

"They'll be here in ten minutes." He held Maka's phone out for her to take. She did so with a baleful look, causing her partner to groan. "Don't look at me like that, Maka, you're the one that decided that we needed to get all this frozen stuff to put in the mini fridge. I don't even think this is goin' to fit in the freezer section of that thing." He did his best to sound stern, but Soul was too amused to pull it off. "You just had to have that macaroni and cheese."

Maka snarled irritably. "Going out all the time would just draw more attention to us, Soul. I'm just trying to do our job right."

Soul's eyebrows raised slightly. He made a placating gesture with his hands before shoving them back into his pockets. "Okay, geez, Maka. Don't bite my head off."

Though he did his best to look nonchalant, Maka could read the hurt in the slight furrow of his eyebrows. Realizing that her tone had been somewhat harsh, she bit the inside of her cheek. Soul was fiddling with something in one of his pockets, his gaze on the concrete before them. Maka puffed her breath out and nudged him with a hip.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I'm angry because I didn't learn anything useful last night." Her fingers clenched at her sides.

Soul didn't look at her. "I know." His feet scuffed at the sidewalk, shoulders slumping. "Your music has been…darker…today. I figured."

Maka gave him a sidelong glance. "My music? How often do you hear it now?"

Soul sighed slightly. "Most all the time, unless we're in a really crowded room. It's in the back of my mind all the time, mostly I just tune it out. I have to focus if I really want it to be more than a mess of notes in my head."

Maka made a thoughtful noise. "I wonder if it has something to do with our resonance rate? We've done a lot of resonating these past few days…" Soul nodded absently, his gaze focused on the street. Blonde bangs falling in her eyes, she was about to voice her irritation, but he cut her off.

"Cab's here." He scooped up the groceries with a grimace, depositing a few of the bags on her crossed arms. Squawking, she scrambled to keep the bags from falling as her partner waved down their taxi. Her hands were too full for her to Chop him without letting the groceries fall and he left the trunk of the cab open for her, so she let it slide. As she tucked her bags in beside the ones he had haphazardly tossed into the back, her lips twitched into a half smile. Soul may have tossed their groceries at her, but only the two lightest bags.

Maka slid into the back of the cab, nodding when the cabbie asked if they were ready to go. He confirmed the name of their hotel with surprise.

"That's a pretty nice place you kids are staying in. What brings you to the Windy City? You goin' to a wedding, or something?" His voice was scratchy, but there was a warmth in his tone that kept Maka from bristling.

"No," she said, "I'm afraid we're just here on business. Our company is working out a deal with a local business and we're here to mediate."

The cabbie sounded impressed. "Aren't you a bit young to be lawyers?"

Soul barked in laughter. "Naw, we're not like that."

"We're just representatives," Maka said quickly, shooting her partner a warning look. He rolled his eyes. "We're here to ensure that the process goes smoothly."

He nodded, looking into the rear view mirror. Maka's eyes accidentally met his. She smiled at him, somewhat bashful, and he grinned in response. Though his features were quite grizzled, there was a kindness to him that she appreciated.

"So judging by the groceries, you guys are gonna be there for a while?" Some of pleasantness in his face died when Maka hummed her assent. "You might want to be careful there, sweetheart."

Maka was startled enough by the cabbie's words that she didn't notice how Soul stiffened in the seat beside her. "Why? Is there something wrong with the hotel?"

The cabbie shook his head. "I wouldn't know anything about the hotel itself. Say goes that it's a nice place and it used to be in a good part of town."

"_Was_ in a good part of town?" Soul asked, suspicious.

The taxi made a sharp right turn, causing them both to lean heavily. Maka's shoulder brushed against his for a moment, her spine straightening as she mouthed embarrassed apologies. Soul gave her a level 'stop being stupid' glance before returning his focus to the cabbie, who was navigating traffic with a bored sort of focus.

"This is a nice area of the city. It's pretty high class, but not enough so for it to become a target. Everything's pretty much in order here." He made a quick gesture to a building as they passed. "Friend of mine works there. Says some weird shit has been happening lately. A few kids have gone missing…others were attacked—they're in the hospital now, and most of them are bad off enough that they won't be talking much for a while." His dark eyes narrowed. "One of the kids is okay enough to talk, but the doctors think the shock has made him a little crazy."

"Why?"

Soul could hear the flurry of notes of Maka's thoughts. He read panic, concern, and excitement in their tone.

"Kid says that he had a friend with him—who was later identified as one of the missing ones—that the guy got to first. Said that the kid's body turned into some glowing blue orb and the guy that attacked them ate it." He shrugged. "Weird shit happens in a place as big as this, but I don't know about this one." Maka looked into the rearview mirror to find him looking intently at her and her partner. "Just be careful, okay?"

They both nodded, Soul wrapping an arm around Maka's shoulders. "I'll keep her safe."

Though she huffed indignantly, she didn't attempt to escape his grasp. "And I'll keep him from being stupid."

At Soul's expense, the cabbie grinned. "You do that, girl." The car slowed to a stop. Tapping the meter, the driver turned. "Twelve fifty eight, please."

Soul was already digging into his wallet to pay for the fare and Maka left the cab quickly, tapping the truck so the driver would pop it. He did so with a crooked smile that widened when he saw the tip Soul had added. "Take care," he said, handing the white-haired weapon a business card. "Call me with this number if you ever need a cab next time." Soul nodded absently, trying to wrestle some of the groceries from Maka, who was stubbornly trying to carry them all.

It was about the time that the cabbie drove away that Soul gave up trying to get the groceries from his uncooperative partner. Instead he looked over the card he was given. The cardstock looked like decent quality, but the weapon still frowned in disapproval.

"What is it?" Maka asked, her green eyes curious as she peeked out from behind bags.

"Guess his name," Soul said, voice dripping with irony. Maka made a noncommittal noise, only half-thinking on her partner's challenge as she attempted to open the door of the hotel lobby. Groaning, Soul swat her hands out of the way and opened the door himself.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she hazarded.

Soul stuffed the card in his pocket with a bemused look. He took advantage of her greeting the lobby attendant, snatching a couple of the grocery bags from her arms. Ignoring her protests, he herded the meister towards the elevator. "No. He, just like every other damn man in this city, is named Louie."

Maka was too busy trying not to laugh to attempt taking back the groceries.

* * *

Navigating through the streets of Chicago with a scythe in her hands without drawing undue attention proved difficult for Maka. She had to stick to shadows and dark alleys, making use of skills she had picked up while working with Black Star. Tracking down the kishin egg that the cabbie had mentioned was easier than either the meister or weapon had expected it to be, but finding a proper place to eliminate it was much more difficult. Maka had wanted to attack the monster on sight but Soul reminded her that they were trying to avoid detection this time. So they had tracked the creature through the streets, blood pounding in time to the resonance that hummed in their ears.

_I guess you learned a thing or two,_ Soul teased.

_Hush, you. Focus on what we're doing here. _Her response wasn't harsh, but it still made Soul's handle shiver in reproach. Maka got a sense of pouting from his side of the link. She rolled her eyes and continued her pursuit of the kishin egg.

Finding him had been something of a disappointment—it was obvious that he wasn't Mack. This potential kishin had a pitifully small soul; it had only recently started its spiral into madness. It was good to catch these things early, of course, but Maka had a small hope that they had gotten a jump on Mack. This was a mission that even her mother had failed.

_Oi, oi,_ Soul prodded the link, _It's time for _you _to focus on the mission._

_I am focused, _Maka snapped back. Both felt her chagrin and instant regret through their bond. Maka couldn't stop the blush that rose to her cheeks as her partner laughed.

The kishin egg slipped past a building, indiscreetly sliding through a door that opened into the alleyway. Maka waited, counting a few breaths before she slipped into Perception so that she could see where in the building their prey had gone. She sensed the soul's descent into what she assumed was a basement, gasping softly when she realized—

_Soul, we need to go in there now_. She was running, dodging traffic on the through street with uncanny ability. Her partner hadn't been attuned to the resonance long enough for him to pick up on her Perception, so his response was confused and filled with a sort of panic at how his meister had flown through a busy street.

_Wait, why? I thought we were gonna wait until we had a good spot to get him alone. There could be people in there—_

_There _are _people in there, Soul. And their wavelengths are weak. I think he's keeping people in there so that he can eat their souls._

Abandoning pretense, Maka kicked the door in and thundered through the hallway beyond. She took a sharp right, turning on her heel, and leapt into a downward stairwell. Soul's protests were drowned out by the thundering of her boots as they hit cracked concrete. Maka's wavelength pulsed with panic, and was seasoned with adrenaline. Soul's attempts at making link-speech with her failed; she was too rushed, her mind working in too many places at once. When he tried to ask her what was wrong, he got vague images of souls in his mind and frantic sensations of terror. His end of the link shimmered with confusion and alarm; Maka was going down those stairs too quickly, she was making too much noise, she had drawn too much attention to them when she had crossed the street.

He connected with his meister's sense of Perception—it wasn't very strong, but it was enough for him to hear the faint tinkle of notes from the victims of the demon.

Soul's nostrils flared. He understood.

_Children,_ he growled, _the bastard has been feeding on children to try and raise his power. Their souls are weak, but they're easy targets._

Maka's end of the resonance mirrored her partner's horror for a moment, but they were rounding the corner of the final flight of stairs. Long legs stretching as far as they would go, Maka launched herself into the basement.

_Maka, be careful, this might be a tra—_

It took an alarming amount of time for Soul to process what happened. He was trying to send his partner waves of calm with his own flickering wavelength, trying to get her to think rationally when his own mind was going too fast. Maka was resisting his attempts, sliding on the loose rubble on the basement's floor as her eyes took their environment. She looked up at the ceiling of the basement and gasped at the same time as she lost her footing on the unstable ground. Her feet flew out in front of her and she fell. It happened too fast for Soul to react properly and shield her head from hitting the concrete. Their resonance stuttered with her sudden loss of orientation.

From above there was screeching as the kishin egg dropped from its perch atop a bar that ran along the ceiling. Soul saw multiple forms of what he assumed were children, Maka had been knocked out of Perception when she hit her head, also hanging from the beam. The evil creature wailed as it hit the floor, inhumanly scurrying across its surface to swipe at Maka.

Soul quickly shifted into his human form, grasping Maka's shoulder and rolling them out of the kishin egg's path. Their enemy stumbled as it attempted to counterbalance itself, breath puffed into a hideous gasp. The white haired weapon took his meister's head into his hands, frantically checking to see how bad the damage was. Her wavelength was growing more steady, the disorientation of the initial blow fading. She'd had worse injuries in the past. Green eyes hardened as she shifted her gaze from Soul's worried expression to the creature that was wheeling on them.

"Soul, transform," she barked, groaning as she pushed herself to a standing position. Being on her feet made her somewhat dizzy, but she bit at her lip and let the world spin. The warm hands on her shoulder vanished, replaced with a familiar length of living steel. Maka grasped at his handle over her shoulder, pushing the end with her right hand and cupping higher with the left to cleave Soul's blade downward into the shoulder of the kishin egg. It hissed, jerking its arm back in an attempt to free itself. The sound of its skin splitting was sickening, but the move awarded enough room for the kishin to pull out of the grapple Maka had gained. Eyes widening, Maka reached outward, trying to drag it back so that she cleanly cut it in half. Her fingers grazed the coat that hung loosely off of its spare shoulders, but the creature was too fast for her to get a proper grip. It was slithering out of her grasp, a hand on the gaping wound she had left. A gruesome trail of crimson followed in its wake.

"Child killer," Maka spat, "your soul is mine!"

The creature wheezed at her, body shaking. Outwardly it seemed human enough to pass as normal on the street, but as it opened its mouth its jaw unhinged to reveal alarmingly jagged teeth. When it spoke, it did so with the inflection of one who was forgetting how to shape once-familiar sounds.

"Not kill…keep." It wrapped its thin arms about its torso, eyes bulging with madness. "Keep them. Keep them here forever. They'll never go. Never be hurt." Suddenly it tilted its head to the side, the shell of its ear painted red with the blood from its wound. A smile twisted its features as it bent forward, head still at an unnatural angle. "Also young. You and the shiny pain. I'll protect. Protect you from the hurt."

Its knee bent at impossible angle as it slunk closer. Maka was having difficulty focusing on the creature, an ache forming in her head that was starting to interfere with her ability to keep in resonance.

_Maka, are you okay? _Concern was thick in Soul's voice, mixed with his horror. Maka's expression tightened.

_We're going to need to call out Witch Hunter for this, Soul. This headache is distracting. _Her grip on Soul's handle tightened, hoping it would anchor her and keep the rising nausea in her stomach down. She could vaguely feel her partner's rage—at the monster, for harming the children; at her, for being too rash and hurting herself. Maka tried to send him reassurance and calm, but too much of her pain leaked through, angering her weapon further.

_Maka, you're not gonna be able to hit him like this. _The link vibrated with Soul's anger and Maka's head pounded. She jabbed at their link impatiently.

_We don't have time for this._ Her point was accentuated by the wild swing of their enemy's arm. They narrowly dodged the blow, Maka pulling Soul in a quick horizontal slash that missed the kishin entirely. The creature hissed again, muttering to itself as it attempted to flank Maka.

_I'm losing focus quickly._

_You have a concussion, moron,_ her weapon reprimanded. _You're not going to be able to hit this thing when you have a head wound like that._

_Then you're going to need to help me, then. _Maka snapped back at him. _Can you still access my Perception?_

_Somewhat. What do you have in mind? _Soul asked edgily. He hissed as she dodged another blow, reeling with nausea from the movement.

_Help me guide the slash, Soul. _Her gloved hands slid down the handle of Soul's scythe as she cleaved in the monster's direction. The blade missed, but she managed to hit it in the side with the juncture of Soul's blade and shaft. With a hiss the creature curled inward, hands flying to the wound with a start.

"Does not want? I protect," it cried piteously, a poor imitation of empathy in its eyes. "Stop hurting. I will make it stop." Thin fingers spread in Maka's direction, beckoning her closer. The meister's lip curled.

_Now, Soul. _Her command was ironclad. Soul let himself sink deeper into the resonance, straining to pull her focus away from the throbbing pain in her head. He hummed gently through their resonance, his soul cradling hers.

_Focus, Maka. Listen. Listen to the kishin's music. _Maka's eyes shut tightly as she endeavored to ignore all unnecessary sensations, including and especially the pain at her temples. She took a deep breath, twining her soul through her partner's.

_Like fingers interweaving,_ she noted softly.

And then she sensed it—the monster's music, though she hesitated to call it that. The mad jumble of notes made it difficult for her discern if it was actually a song or just someone attacking a piano. Soul's part of the resonance chuckled.

_You're not as used to the sound of madness as I am. There's a song in there, I can tell you that. _There was a touch of sympathy in his voice.

_A sad one._

Maka's brows furrowed. _We can't afford to give this monster pity._

_It doesn't deserve it,_ Soul added. _Ready?_

She nodded, her muscle memory taking over as she spun her weapon in her hands. Their souls aligned, their breath synchronized, and Soul's blade was shifting, glowing, growing into sharp angles that sang with her Anti-Demon Wavelength and his loyalty. When she pulled her weapon into a horizontal swing, it didn't matter that her aim was a little too low for its neck; the kishin egg was shorn from one shoulder to mid-torso. No blood spilled from the wound—the creature had a brief expression of brief shock cross its face before it unraveled from existence.

Their resonance broke instantly, Maka sinking onto one knee. Her right hand moved to brace against the ground, the other rising to gingerly touch the back of her head. She flinched, quickly pulling the hand away to inspect for blood. Dark red shined wetly in contrast to the white of her gloves.

Beside her, Soul transformed. His hand reached out to steady her, eyes narrowing when he saw the blood welling from her scalp.

"What the hell was that?" Soul wanted to yell, but he knew from their resonance sheer volume would only exacerbate her pain. He settled for an angered hissing from clenched teeth.

Maka gave him an irritable look. "What do you mean, Soul?"

Soul grimaced with exasperation. "I mean, _why the hell did you charge in here like that?_ You slipped and hit your damn head. You're supposed to be so smart, but sometimes I think that Black*Star has more sense than you."

The meister whirled to her feet, anger etched in her features. It might have been fearsome had she not given herself vertigo from the movement, grasping at the front of Soul's jacket to steady herself. She glared at him through ashen bangs.

"It was about to eat the souls of those children. What else was I supposed to do?"

"I dunno," he growled, "maybe think before you throw yourself into a building and hit your head?"

"I was going for the element of surprise," she snapped. She pulled away, hastily releasing her partner's jacket. Her gaze raised to the beam above where the children were tied. She needed to find a good way to get them down safely, but her head was pounding hard enough that thought was difficult to think. Remembering what Soul had said earlier about a concussion, the color drained from her face. Concussions took long periods of time to heal and they were on a mission; how much of their success had she sacrificed on impulse? The realization hit her hard, bile and irritability rising in her throat. "You don't need to be this protective, Soul. I'm a big girl."

Soul gave an exasperated groan. "Maka, I'm your _weapon._ I am supposed to—"

"Not this again!" Maka shouted, wincing from the volume of her own voice. The look in her eyes was venomous. "You're a broken record with this, Soul. Weapons protect their meisters, but that's not a proper excuse for your being an overprotective _ass!_" Her tone was sharp enough to cut.

Soul wanted to yell, to grab his meister by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. His hands clenched at his sides as he bit back a caustic response; remembering her head injury made him stay his tongue.

Though she did her best to stand her ground, Maka was shaky. There was a slight tremor in her arms and the irritability in her face was overlaid with pain. Some of the blood from her wound had smeared on her neck, a lurid reminder of just how close he had come to losing her- how he still could if he didn't get her to a hospital quickly enough.

It was when he felt the sharp sting of pain that Soul realized that he had been digging his fingernails into his palms.

This was _his_ meister, _his _Maka, and she was too precious for him to lose her like this.

Maka thought that his devotion was out of some sense of responsibility, that when he told her that it was his duty as her weapon to protect her, that it was out of some misplaced sense of duty. After years of resonanting, intertwining souls, she still didn't understand. Soul decided that it was time to stop waiting. He bridged the space between them by reaching out, placing a hand on her shoulder. The breath he drew echoed harshly in the room.

"What if I told you that it was because I loved you?" The words came out as a quiet snarl, tenderness masked with frustration. Maka could not break his gaze. "_Is that excuse enough?"_

* * *

Endless thanks to odat for helping me through this one. Seriously, you helped take care of my horrible sleep-deprived writing and I am forever thankful. As for the Bill Evans song...it's "Like Someone in Love." :)_  
_


	5. Ritornare

Author Notes: As always, I own nothing. And I am endlessly grateful for the assistance given to me by the lovely odat in editing these chapters. :)

* * *

A heavy breath hung between them. The hand on Maka's shoulder clenched a little too tightly for her comfort. Her ability to concentrate on her Soul Perception was diminishing rapidly, but a quick scan of the room gave her a sense of the flickering wavelengths of the children. They were safe, but Maka had little more than a moment to sort out her thoughts.

A shiver ran down her spine as Maka realized that she was cold. Though it had slowed, the blood from her wound had dripped onto her neck, leaving it sticky and cold. Attempting to concentrate on the whirling of thoughts and emotions in her brain left her temples pounding painfully.

She laughed shakily when she realized that every second she remained silent was making the situation worse. But her head hurt and her perception was dying and Soul was laughing too, the hand on her shoulder falling to his side.

"Soul, is it okay if we..."

"Yeah." He made a motion for her to turn around. She did so, allowing her partner to inspect the gash across the back of her scalp. "It was bad timing."

Maka shivered again, not certain if it was from the cold or the sensation of her partner's gentle fingers in her hair. She was acutely aware of the warmth that his body resonated as he stood behind her. "Head wounds bleed deceptively. The skin of the scalp is really thin, so blood wells really easily. I don't feel lightheaded, so I think I should be fine..."

"Well, at least I know that knock to the head didn't give you any brain damage," Soul grumbled. The warmth of his hands left her head, and Maka considered turning around until she started at a slight ripping sound. Her eyes first darted to the children above them, but their bonds seemed secure. Maka turned to glance at her partner instead. Soul had transformed one of his fingers into a small blade and was ripping the fabric of his shirt carefully. When she opened her mouth to question his actions, he cut her off.

"Bandage." His tone was gruff, but Maka read the worry- and probably something else, she realized- in his eyes. Maka obliged as Soul motioned for her to lean forward; she could feel his hands shaking slightly as he wound the scrapped fabric around her wound. She peered up at him through her bangs, smiling slightly when she caught his eye.

"Sorry." Though he tied the makeshift dressing as gently as he could, her voice still caught as she winced. "We have things we need to take care of right now." Soul shoved his hands in his pockets and began to move away, but Maka caught him with an outstretched arm. "We'll talk later. I promise."

He nodded, lips twitching into a momentary smile. Maka straightened and brushed at the stains of kishin blood and dirt that smeared along her coat. Her lips were puckered in displeasure, face so ridiculous that Soul found himself laughing again. He patted the crown of her head gingerly. "Let's get these kids down and find you a doctor, moron."

* * *

Soul had a long history of impressive sighs, but the one he gave as he collapsed into his cold hotel bed was one of the best. It was partly aching muscles and partly the ungodly hour but mostly it was his meister. His precious, courageous, absolutely infuriating meister.

The elaborate rigging of the kids in the rafters spoke to a level of sophistication that Soul and Maka had not expected out of a kishin egg. Though getting them out of their bindings was as simple as a swipe of Soul's blade, the actual process of getting them down was another matter entirely. The basement had a much higher ceiling than most, and the kids had been drugged into unconsciousness. Maka's vertigo made her ability to catch the kids unreliable, so the process of getting the kids down was painstakingly slow. When they had all of the kids to safety, not knowing how else to handle the situation, Maka called the local police.

It was then that they discovered that the Chicago Police Department had not been informed that Shibusen had working operatives in the area.

It devolved into a many-hour nightmare. Chicago had regulations against having an unregistered weapon/meister pair without an official mission statement, and they wouldn't take Shinigami-sama's handwritten note- which had been hastily stuffed into Soul's back pocket- as a voucher for them. Maka had thought to bring Shibusen identification with her, but they had to run Soul through their system to prove that he really was Maka's partner. All the while the weapon was growing increasingly irate, partly due to the bother and partly because each minute that passed was another hour that Maka went without seeing a doctor.

After proving himself a registered weapon of Shibusen, Soul convinced the police to call in someone to look at Maka's head. When he was convinced that she would be taken care of, he agreed to give a statement of what had happened that night. It was a long process that left Soul wishing on more than one occasion that he could pull Maka in to talk to the policeman instead. But the fact that she had a head wound meant that the detail work fell on his shoulders.

It had been a long night to end all long nights, and it was _almost_ enough for Soul to forget that he had confessed his love to his meister.

He'd had vague notions of his feelings for some time, but it was only recently that he realized that there was romance in his devotion to his meister. Knowing how frequently they resonated, he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide it from her long. Half-formed plans of telling her how he felt in varying levels of sickening cliche were blown away by that night's events. Even with his distinct lack of experience he knew he had screwed up; even cliche was preferable over an angry and panic driven confession. He moaned into the cold mattress.

The fact that Maka hadn't Chopped him over what had happened left him worried. She'd embedded a book spine in his skull even while bedridden- over much lesser things. So when she hadn't done so when Soul told her of his feelings, he felt a sudden apprehension over her promise that they would talk later. If she reciprocated his feelings, wouldn't she have told him so right away?

But this was Maka, whose father was the textbook definition of male infidelity and made overthinking things a hobby. And to top it all off, she had a concussion. Was that what kept her from hitting him? Had her judgement been impaired that badly? Or maybe that promise to talk later meant that she didn't mind the uneven nature of his feelings. A little voice tried to suggest that maybe she loved him back, but Soul immediately hushed it by shoving it into the furthest corner of his mind. The chances of that were astronomically tiny, and he was not willing to deal with the fallout of such a ridiculous hope being let down.

He sat up sharply when he heard her hiss from the bathroom. Whirling, he moved to help, but Maka warned him off.

"I'm taking out my hairbands."

"Why would that hurt?" Soul hovered at the closed doorway, unsure whether or not he should come in, regardless. Maka hissed again.

"The hair's tangled and the blood dried..." she trailed off. He could hear her small sigh of frustration. "Look, Soul, I can handle this. Just...go sit down, okay? I've got this under control."

"Doesn't sound like it," he muttered, but he spun on his heel anyway. He gave the rumpled coverlet of the bed a wary look before opting to lean against the wall. Closing his eyes, he listened to the hum of his meister's soul. Maka's music had been playing erratically for the past several hours, the melody shifting painfully, often interrupted by a sudden jolt of notes much like hands slamming on piano keys. It made him cringe whenever he heard it, feeling the ripples of empathetic pain. Soul wanted to sit her down and tell her to stop thinking, but he would have better luck trying to get her to stop breathing. So he kept a constant tab on his meister's wavelength, enduring the echoed pain as a sign of silent devotion.

Soul was startled by her sudden curse from the bathroom, the sound almost drowning out the garbled yelling of an adult man. Though his body tensed, ready to break down the door to protect his meister, Soul knew the voice of Spirit Albarn well enough to not panic. Sudden intrusions via mirror were a common enough occurrence for Shibusen students. Despite this, Maka's wavelength pulsed painfully at the sound of her father's voice. Soul decided that intrusion was necessary; he knocked briskly at the door. She was insistently trying to calm her father as she let Soul in.

Soul entered the cramped bathroom, scowling at the mirror. "Oi, Deathscythe. Your daughter has a concussion, so I suggest you shut up for a minute."

"A concussion?" Spirit screeched, catching himself as he realized his noise level. "Darling, are you okay?" He spoke in a mock whisper.

Maka's music had soothed into a slightly irate sonata, the painful banging gone. "I'm fine, Papa." She did her best to mask her wince with a smile.

"I thought you weren't supposed to contact us through the mirror on this mission," Soul deadpanned, shoulders hunched as he slouched against the bathroom wall. "Something about drawing too much attention to ourselves?" Spirit turned an evil eye on the younger weapon, nostrils flaring.

"You can't expect a good father to just ignore the fact that his girl has gotten hurt, can you?"

Soul tried his best to look nonchalant as he stared his superior down. He could see the concern in Spirit's eyes, so he shrugged in lieu of an acerbic response. Maka leaned in beside him, gingerly positioning herself so that her head wouldn't brush against the wall. Her hair fell against his shoulder, messy with dried blood. It draped unevenly over the bandage wrapped around her head. Soul's shoulder tingled at the spot where it met with Maka's. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her father scowl in restrained disapproval.

Soul bared his teeth for a moment, challenging Spirit's contempt. "Whatever. What do you want, Deathscythe?"

"I want a full report," Spirit replied, his face drawn into something similar to a pout. "Shinigami-sama said that it would be okay to drop the pretense long enough for us to sort out what happened. You brought enough attention to yourselves tonight as it is."

Soul could feel Maka cringe beside him. Her music softened bashfully as she thought of sprinting across the road, dodging traffic with Soul's weapon form in her hands.

"Chicago is a big place, and enough weird stuff happens here that this will be easy enough to sweep under the rug. But we really can't do much about eyewitnesses." Spirit's expression was almost apologetic as his daughter shrunk with each condemning word.

Soul watched this with an even gaze, smirking as he recalled the events of the evening. "It's not all on us, though," he drawled. It was Spirit's turn to arch an eyebrow, the effect somewhat ruined by the adoration in his face as he tried to comfort his daughter.

"It's okay, Maka, sweetie, it's not your fault, I'm sure that you had a lot happening all at once and I probably would have—eh? What is it, Eater?" The older scythe's tone had been sickeningly sweet until the last sentence, which was delivered with a level of nonchalance that even Soul could begrudgingly appreciate.

"Alerting the authorities, Deathscythe. It seems someone forgot to do it." He crossed his arms for good measure. A pall fell over Spirit's mirrored face.

"That was Spirit's job," came Stein's sardonic voice from somewhere out of view. What color was left in Spirit's face drained. Maka, on the other hand, frowned at the realization that others were privy to their conversation.

"How many of you are there?" she asked. Suspicion settled into her features.

"Present!" That was Shinigami-sama, singsonging cheerfully.

Marie and Stein both chimed in from the background. Maka's grimace grew more pronounced.

"Why aren't any of you standing where I can see you? And why is it that none of you took care to alert the proper authorities?" she droned, foreboding in her voice. Spirit gaped in a rather fishlike manner and for a moment. Soul was almost concerned that his senior Deathscythe wasn't breathing.

"Spirit wanted you all to himself, Maka. He was worried about you," came the lilting voice of the death god. She heard a muttered request for someone to pass the chips in the background.

"If he was properly worried, he could have called the local police in Chicago so that they wouldn't be suspicious of us when we brought children to their station." Spirit seemed to shrink from the admonishment.

"Well, uh…"

"That way we could have saved a few hours and I could have seen a doctor more quickly."

Spirit made a strangled noise.

"She would have lost a lot less blood if we could have saved that time," Soul added. He tried to keep from grinning when Spirit stiffened.

"We all thought he had already done it," supplied Stein, seemingly in on Soul and Maka's game.

"Yes, yes," Shinigami-sama added cheerfully. "I thought that since it was his daughter, he'd do so quickly, but—"

"But what?" Maka's voice was heavier than lead. Soul wondered if the weight of it would crush the red-headed scythe into dust.

"But he was in Chupa Cabra's all of yesterday; we had to drag him out by the neck to let him know you were hurt." Soul had to hand it to Stein—the man had a talent for deadpanning that was nigh impossible to beat.

His former partner recovered enough to eye daggers over his shoulder in what Soul and Maka assumed was Stein's direction. "Stein," he hissed, fingers clenched.

The stitched meister's response had an air of false innocence to it: "Sempai, I was just telling her the truth. It's not good to keep secrets from people you care about, after all."

Maka huffed, crossing her arms in a way that mirrored Soul's position. Spirit turned creakily, a sycophantic smile on his face.

"N-now Maka…sweetie…Papa loves you more than anything—"

"Then maybe you should actually do what you're supposed to and not make my job harder," Maka shot back, petulance in her tone. Spirit looked downtrodden.

Her music flowed aggravatedly. The anger made her blood pound, which in turn made her head hurt worse. As Spirit mumbled apologies, Soul nudged the girl beside him.

"Oi, Maka. I'll handle the report, okay?"

She turned a skeptical eye on him. "You already did the police report, though, and you complained about it the whole way back to the hotel, are you sure you want..." Her voice trailed off as he rolled his eyes. Hand on her shoulder, he gently pushed her towards the door.

"Bein' next to you when you're hurting like that is making _me _hurt. Go sit down or somethin'." In the background, Spirit squawked in indignation, but a swift glare from Maka shut him up rather quickly. She nodded appreciatively at Soul, who shut the door behind her. Cracking his neck, he leaned back against the wall and stared down the discontented Deathscythe in the mirror.

Stein's voice was heard, sounding less jovial than it had before. "So tell us, Soul. What happened?" Spirit was shoved to the side, now sharing the small mirror space with a frowning Stein. Both weapons looked on apprehensively as the meister twisted thoughtfully at the screw in his head.

"Maka called in the report when we were at the station. I don't get why that wasn't good enough." Soul kicked petulantly at the sink cabinet. He'd told Maka that he would handle the report, but he mostly just wanted to get her to lie down for a while. Going through the story again when all he wanted was to sleep was not an appealing thought.

"She has a head wound, Soul," Stein droned. "The information she gave could have been unreliable."

"The knock to her head didn't make her stupid," Soul snapped. "You could have a little more faith in her." He could feel her music flowing from the other room, less troubled with her headache, but there was still an edge to it that he couldn't quite interpret. Though he wanted to spend more time evaluating it, Stein was leaning forward, tapping at the mirror. Soul felt sudden empathy for fish in tanks.

"All the same, Soul Eater," Spirit added, seemingly recovered from his earlier admonishment. "We'd like to hear the report from you."

Soul rubbed at his neck with a sigh. "Fine, fine. But tell me what she told you first."

Stein recounted Maka's entirely accurate report flatly. At one point while the meister was talking, Spirit was called over by Shinigami-sama and left the mirror's narrow view. Soul arched a brow at this, but Stein continued as if nothing had happened. When he finished, Soul shrugged. "I don't know what to tell ya, Professor. What Maka told you is pretty much exactly how it went."

Stein's eyes narrowed. "And you're _sure_ it wasn't Mack?"

"Well, for starters, tracking the guy wasn't a problem." Soul grinned. "We'd only heard about this guy this afternoon and we were able to find him within a few hours. If this was the same kishin who gave Deathscythe the slip last time, I suggest that Shinigami-sama find another weapon."

A yelp of protest came from somewhere out of Soul's view.

Stein nodded, however, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And the other reasons?

"Well, Maka could sense his soul. Didn't you guys say that you think that he might have use of some form of Soul Protect?"

"Yes." This was Shinigami-sama. His masked face leaned into the top left of the screen. "We believe that he may be working in conjunction with some sort of witch. However..."

"None of our leads have turned up when it comes to identifying who this witch might be," Stein finished dryly. "Considering the death of Louis Fitzgerald and his family's previous associations with witches, we had thought that we could find at least a hint, but we've come up with nothing. I don't suppose you've had any insights into the Dive?"

"Ehh, not much, to be honest." The white-haired weapon stretched, yawn warping his words. "Other than the fact that it seems to be a hotspot for unusually strong souls- like the bartender, the vocalist for the band and the owner."

Stein's eyebrows had flown up as he looked to someone out of view. After a moment, Spirit appeared, crowding in between Shinigami-sama and Stein.

"Unusual in what way?" His voice was apprehensive.

"They're all human." Soul kicked at the sink cabinet again.

"We know that the bartender, Louie Miller, is a human of unusual power," hummed Shinigami-sama. "What are the names of the others?'

"Ehh...Lottie Lenya, that's the vocalist."

Spirit's eyebrows raised in a comic mirror of Stein's expression. "Lottie? What is she doing there?"

"Wha- you know her?" Startled, Soul leaned forward.

"Of course he knows her." Stein sounded more interested than he had before. "She's one of the non-Shibusen weapons in North America that Spirit is responsible for." The red-haired weapon slumped a little.

"Responsible for?" Soul was now the one raising his eyebrows to match the other two.

"Well, weapons have extraordinary power," Shinigami-sama explained. Some of the cheerfulness in his voice had wilted. "So when a weapon is born, they need to be registered and watched."

"Watched?" Incredulity made Soul's volume raise enough that he could feel the spike of pain it gave Maka. He mindfully lowered his tone. "What do you mean, _watched?_"

There was embarrassment in the Death God's tone. "Well, we have to. Initially it's to keep an eye on when it's time to admit them to Shibusen, but if they choose not to attend, then..."

"You watch them to make sure that they don't cause trouble," Soul finished angrily. "Is that what was going to happen to me if I hadn't come to Shibusen?"

"You were already being watched." Stein's voice had gone back to boredom. His hands were shoved in his lab coat pockets, fiddling with something therein.

"Mm. Good to know," Soul shot back caustically. Stein shrugged.

"I don't make the rules." A moment of silence passed; Soul forced himself to avoid looking angrily at his death-god boss, taking a deep breath instead. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So yeah. Lottie is there, who evidently you know. Then there's the owner, Jenny Diver. Is she another one of your weapons gone astray?"

Spirit shook his head at Stein. "I've never heard of her," the meister said.

Soul frowned. "According to Maka, she's got the strongest soul of the three. Do you keep an eye on potential meisters as well?"

Spirit's voice was thoughtful. "If they've got souls more powerful than Lottie's, then we really should be keeping an eye on her." An odd expression crossed his face, but he said nothing else.

"We'll look into Ms. Diver once we get to the bottom of this situation with Mack. Are there any other souls that we should know of?" Stein was turning at the screw in his head again.

Soul shrugged. "A lot of the regulars of the place are above average in power. About Loiue Miller's level, Maka said. We just assumed that the place drew them in somehow."

It seemed that Stein was happy with this assessment, as he nodded and exchanged a meaningful glance with Shinigami-sama. Spirit, on the other hand, looked more troubled. He gave the younger weapon a long glance before reluctantly speaking.

"Are there...ah...working girls at this club?"

Incredulous, Soul rubbed at his temples. "Are you kidding me, Deathscythe? Skirt chasing when you're not even-"

"That's not why," Spirit snapped in response, face heated. "It's just...when I was on the mission last time, our only lead was a working girl who had associated-" Soul arched an eyebrow "with a number of Mack's victims. They were all humans of extraordinary power. I was chasing the lead when..." His voice trailed off, an uncomfortable silence settling in. Stein lit a cigarette, ignoring Marie's quiet '_I thought you quit_' that floated in from the background.

"When you mixed work and pleasure?" Soul finished sardonically. Spirit flushed.

"Chantelle wasn't going to talk to us about anything. I thought that if I did some undercover work, I could crack her, but my ex-wife didn't approve."

Soul's expression was without sympathy. "It's not cool to cheat on your partner. Even when it's for the job."

Something hardened in Spirit's gaze, the embarrassment burned away. His voice was quiet. "It was our first mission after Maka was born. I wanted to go home to my little girl." The elder Deathscythe's posture stiffened as he leaned away from the glass. "Regardless-"

"I'll keep an eye out for her," Soul interjected. He relaxed his posture, voice sincere. Spirit seemed more at ease.

"How are you going to handle continued surveillance of the Dive?" Stein asked, fogging up the mirror with a puff of cigarette smoke.

"I'll keep playing to keep up the ruse, but we'll have to see how well Maka is feeling in the morning." Soul rubbed at his jaw, restraining the urge to yawn. "If her head is still hurtin' too much for her to resonate with me, then we're up shit's creek. So if that's the case, then I'll keep playin' and keep up the charade until she feels better."

"Maka's a tough girl," Shinigami-sama said warmly. "I'm sure that she'll be raring to go in no time."

Soul grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like her. Is that everything you need? 'cause it's late and-"

"Go to sleep," Stein supplied. He nodded abruptly towards Shingami-sama, smoke curling from his lips. They formed little skulls before they dispersed. "I think we can handle the rest of this."

The meister and death god moved out of view, muttering to each other in serious tones. Spirit, however, shoved his hands in his pockets and stared his daughter's partner down. Soul looked on with a bored expression, content to wait until Spirit said his piece. Maka's music had toned down sleepily, the echoes of pain less pronounced. Soul's shoulders felt lighter.

"Eater..."

"Yeah?" Soul matched Spirit's gaze smoothly, an eyebrow arched.

"I'll be holding you to my request." There was an air of defeat in Spirit's posture as Soul straightened. The younger weapon chuffed in laughter behind a razor-sharp grin.

"You never needed to worry about that, old man." The lightness in his voice was unusually flippant. "You're not the only one who cares about her, you know."

Soul tapped at the mirror a couple times, opening the bathroom door with his free hand. "I'll be going now. I've got to check on Maka. I'll...uh...let you know if anything happens, okay?" He gave a brief sort of nod before edging out the room. The image of Spirit cut out right before he shut the door.

Soul sighed for a moment, letting the new information sink in. He knew that he should probably tell Maka about the lead, but her music had only recently slowed to a less furious pace of thought and he didn't want to exacerbate her pain. Their mission could wait until morning.

She was sprawled her bed, which was closer to the bathroom than his. While he had been talking, she had changed into her bedclothes, wiry legs swamped by her oversized flannel pants. Her music spiked in tempo as he stepped into the room. Rubbing at her eyes, she turned on her side to look up at Soul. He waved his hands at her.

"Go back to sleep, Maka."

Her gaze turned peevish. "You know I wasn't asleep, Soul. You've been checking up on me this whole time."

A look of shock crossed Soul's face. "How do you know that?"

She rolled her eyes at him as she carefully pulled herself into a sitting position. "I could feel your soul poking at mine every minute or so." Soul looked down bashfully.

"Er...sorry about that. I didn't mean to bother you or anythin'."

A small smile fluttered on her lips. She started to shake her head, but she thought better of it as the disorientation caught up with her. Soul was moving towards his bed and though her grasp on Soul Perception was still fuzzy, she knew that he was trying to give her space. A voice in the back of her head told her that it would be easier if she just let him go to bed, quoting a need of sleep to avoid conversation. But she had promised them that they'd talk, and she'd spent the past few hours gathering up the courage to say what needed to be said. So as her partner passed, she grabbed at his hand. When he stopped to give her a bemused look, she patted her mattress, indicating that he should sit. He did so, apprehension growing in his features. The bed was large enough that he sat without touching her. Maka frowned, carefully scooting over so that their hips were just barely touching. Her hand reached out for his. As he took it, their fingers laced together in the nervous silence.

Heart pounding, she opened her mouth to speak. "Soul, I said we'd talk and I-"

"Maka, it's late. You don't need to do this now." His interjection was exactly as she expected. Masking her unease with a stern look, she reprimanded him.

"When I said we'd talk, I meant it." Her fingers tightened in his, stern expression fading away. She looked tired again, and Soul restrained the urge to raise his other hand to cup her cheek. Instead he shifted a little closer, gauging her reaction carefully. Maka could feel the tension in his body; she wanted to say something to calm him, but she could do little to ease her own.

She knew what she needed to say; she'd been rehearsing it in a tightly locked corner of her mind for the past few hours, turning over phrases and emotions uneasily despite her throbbing headache. Normally words were not difficult for her, even when paired with emotion, but this was new territory for Maka- dangerous, uncomfortable territory. And as loath as she was to admit it, it scared her. Bravery was her virtue; she had faced down demons with less apprehension than this. Yet she could not slow the beating of her heart as her partner's thumb brushed against hers slowly.

"Maka..." His face was closer than she had expected it to be, eyes soft as he looked at her with worry. She knew that she wasn't making this easy for either of them, so she took a deep breath, hoping that he wouldn't detect the slight catch. _Had he always spoken her name like that?_

"Just give me a minute. I need to think."

He laughed slowly, the sound intimate as his thumb brushed against hers again. "You do that too much, Maka."

Maka found that she was too comfortable in their position to interrupt it by Chopping Soul. Instead she settled on frowning at him, but it was halfhearted.

"Seriously, though..." Soul's eyebrows had furrowed, the worry in his eyes more pronounced. "You don't need to do this now. I'm the one who threw this at you and..." He broke eye contact, looking up as if for an answer, "and I don't want you to feel pressured by my mistake. I was goin' to tell you sometime soon, but I didn't expect this and it just...happened."

"I'm glad it did," Maka said softly. She caught his gaze again, wondering if maybe she could somehow convey her jumbled mess of emotion through eye contact alone. It would have made the exchange much easier. A sudden giggle escaped her lips, her forehead slowly coming to rest against Soul's.

Though he was startled, he did not move away from her, instead shifting his hand so that he could better support himself.

"I am pretty stupid today," she murmured. Her breath was soft against Soul's cheek.

"That's what I've been telling you all night," he teased gently. "Anything specific, though?"

Her eyes slipped shut as she carefully let her soul stretch out to meet his. It beat at her concentration and the throbbing in her head was more aggravated than it had been before, but it didn't hurt the way resonating had a few hours ago. A wave of relief washed over Maka; her concussion must not be that bad if she was recovering from it this quickly.

Their souls met in a shared sigh of contentment. Maka let her tangled mass of emotions flow over the link, embarrassment tinging her cheeks as Soul's end of the link hurriedly tried to process it all. He was even more overwhelmed than she, but he made a valiant effort to make sense of it all.

_I can understand why you said you needed time to think,_ he sent. The sensation of his voice thrumming along her soul calmed her. Their resonance seemed to have a similar effect on him; she could feel his posture relaxing. Though his closeness comforted her, her neck was starting to hurt from the awkward craning position she had found herself in. Now immersed in the resonance, Soul could feel her discomfort. He shifted beside her, trying to find a better position for them both, but Maka stopped him with a hand on his chest, pushing him gently.

_Lay down,_ the suggestion was more feeling than words, and Soul answered with a questioning tone that very thinly covered his panic. Despite the confusion of the moment, Maka managed to unify her thoughts into a sharp command. _Lay down, Soul. I'm not going to bite you._

_But are you comfortable with-_

_If I wasn't, I wouldn't be telling you to lay down._

Sighing, the weapon complied slowly and settled down on his back. He watched Maka with a careful eye as she settled down beside him. Their arms were squished uncomfortably between them, but both were hesitant about moving his arm to pillow her head. So instead she turned on her side, smiling as he did the same. The coolness of her mattress soothed the throbbing in her head a little. She leaned in, allowing their foreheads to touch again. Silence set in as she tried to focus on her emotions.

_I said that we would talk, but...words can be difficult. _Though she was apologetic, Soul's end of the resonance was quick to shake that off.

_Maka, there's no need to apologize. Take as much time as you need to figure things out. As long as this doesn't affect our resonance..._

_It won't_ Maka assured him softly. _I promise. I...think I like you back? I mean..._ The verbal portion of her link died out as she pulled out individual sensations, trying to piece them together into something that made sense-her obvious physical attraction to him, the comfort she took in his closeness, the way his thumb brushing against hers felt like electricity through a wire. Her confusion threaded through the feelings as she pushed them towards Soul. _I don't know how I feel. You've been my partner for so long, I just-_

_Don't know where the loyalty ends and the love begins? _There was an intensity in his gaze as the link welled with his understanding. _Believe me, I can relate. _Maka laughed softly, cautiously raising a hand to Soul's face. He leaned into her touch, and as his lips brushed softly against her palm a jolt of pleasure ran through her body. A pleased smile crept onto his lips. _We'll take this slowly. _His hand snaked under hers so that he could run a finger across her chin.

_I can live with that. _Sleepiness made her eyes droop, contrasting her own small smile. The combined warmth of their bodies had warmed the mattress, an enveloping warmth tempting Maka. Soreness had crept into her muscles at some point and she craved the comfort of sleep, though she knew the next day the ache would only be worse. Her drowsiness flooded the link, triggering Soul's own exhaustion. He yawned despite himself, puffing air against her face.

"Good thing I got you that toothbrush," she mumbled, catching his yawn. He rolled his eyes at her, but linked as they were she could feel his gratitude that she wasn't put off by his yawning in her face.

_You've done far worse, _she teased, _I can't imagine why you'd be so afraid now._

He arched an eyebrow at her, the look dubious enough that she responded with a trill of sympathy. Giving in to her exhaustion, she shut her eyes, nuzzling her forehead closer to his. Soul laid there for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy their position before pulling back slightly. The hand that Maka had cupped around his face fell to his shoulder, pulling him back. Her face was scrunched in disapproval. _Where are you going?_ The question was only barely verbal.

_You're tired, Maka..and so am I. I'm gonna turn the light off and go to bed. _

_Forget about the light; you're already in bed. _Her awareness had drifted off enough that she didn't register the sudden jolt in his emotions. Hand clutching him tightly, she tried to pull him closer. _You're warm and you smell good...stay._

Though she might not have been awake enough to register his emotions, surely she was close enough to feel the pounding of his heart. _I don't think we have the same definition of taking it slowly, Maka._

His meister made no response other than to slide her hand to his ribcage, trying to bring him closer. Sighing, he allowed her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. The position allowed him to lean in and inhale the scent of her hair. He blamed her intoxicating scent for the tumble of words that fell through the link.

_You smell pretty damn good too. _

She responded with a shimmer of emotions; he could feel her smile against his as he was, he was slow to interpret each thread of feeling, but a grin crept on his face as he did so. More than anything else, despite being too tired to form proper words, Maka was flattered.

She was comfortably nestled in the crook of his neck, the curve of her nose just brushing his jawline. Breath deep, her small chest expanded rhymically, coming just shy of brushing his own. Soul let a hand slide up her arm, fingers tangling in her hair as she made a small hum of approval. He sat there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of his meister curled up beside him. Her music betrayed the sense of security she felt in his arms; Soul had always been the one to protect her.

Despite this, Soul knew that she was tired. Though her headache had faded, the exhaustion had whittled her down to a very vulnerable state. And while it warmed him that his meister would be comfortable being that way with him, despite the tangle of her feelings, he knew that in the morning she might feel different.

Pushing with his shoulder, he relocated Maka's head from its position at his neck. The hand that was tangled in her hair moved to cup her face and he pulled back, looking at her with serious eyes. She cracked an eye open, bleary green meeting his crimson. The link swelled with her brief confusion. Chuckling softly, Soul tilted his chin forward, resting his lips on her forehead.

They were more rough against that skin than they had been on the thick calluses of her palm. She could feel where his lips were starting to chap at the corners and a blurry thought of chapstick appeared in the link briefly before being smothered by her rising contentment.

And then he was pulling away, ignoring her feeble attempts to draw him back into her arms. He stood, body flushing with goosebumps at the sudden loss of warmth. Noting his meister's frown, he folded a corner of the blanket over her. She clutched at it as he moved away.

_Soul..._Though she wanted to command him to return to her side, it came off as more of a whine. He smiled despite himself as he turned off the lightswitch.

_That was a goodnight kiss, Maka. I'll be going to mybed so that you don't give _me _a concussion in the morning with one of your books. _In the darkness of the room, Soul could see her stir. _Don't argue with me this time. Please? _

_Stay, _she toned at him sleepily. Her music was somewhat troubled, enough so that it gave Soul pause as he stood over her bed. Taking two deep breaths, he leaned in, taking the other side of the blanket and tucking it around her. She made an irritated noise, but Soul turned and carefully made his way to his own bed.

_I've taken advantage of you enough tonight, _he told himself as much as he did her. Though he slid under the chill covers of his blankets, he didn't break from the resonance. Maka's sleepiness was overpowering her unhappiness and the shimmering link between them left Soul feeling content. Her music was lilting and sweet as they both slipped off into sleep.

* * *

Having a decent view of the sunrise could be a rarity in big cities like Chicago. But if you had a good eye for the urban landscape, it wasn't hard to find a good spot. Even after being away for so many years, Mack had enough sense of the city that he secured a good location not too far from where he had been living the past few weeks. He'd set up a folding chair on the roof of a public-access building that opened early- the ground floor had a coffee shop that opened before dawn to catch the early jogger crowd and some old regulars. The businesses on the upper floors left the roof door propped for the smokers that worked there, giving Mackheath a golden opportunity to watch the day begin.

_You are my sunshine_

Though his voice was thin, he carried the melody well. There was warmth in his tone as he sung.

_My only sunshine_

He slipped his hand into his inner coat pocket. The fabric of his glove slid quietly along the folded handle of his jackknife. Eyes on the horizon, he took his hand out of the pocket long enough to remove his gloves. Then, swiftly, he took the knife from its resting place, pulling a bit of polish and a cloth from another pocket with his other hand. He flipped the knife open, observing its dull glint in the new light. Humming to himself, he brought it to his lips and kissed the flat of the blade.

_You make me happy when skies are grey_

After setting the blade on his knee for a moment, he unscrewed the little container of polish, using a cloth-covered finger to scoop out the greasy substance. Though it was broken by the occasional skyscraper, the horizon was clear as its color evolved from the faded blue of denim to the burning orange of embers. Mack's fingers were reverent as they slid along the blade of his knife, wiping away any dust before he took the polishing cloth to its steel.

_You'll never know, dear, how much I love you_

The moment was serene. Mackheath took exceptional attention to detail in the polishing of his knife, hands lovingly buffing away that dullness until it shone like quicksilver in the new light of the morning. His thin shoulders made an occasional thunking noise against the chair, but the sound was quiet in the morning air. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he moved his attention to the handle of the blade. That was more demanding work than cleaning the blade itself; Mack took to the handle with singleminded fastidiousness.

It was that same single mindedness that caused him to neglect his Soul Perception; though it wasn't very strong, it would have alerted him to the security guard's presence with enough time for him to make a clean getaway. That not being the case, when the security guard stepped onto the roof, informing Mack that he wasn't supposed to be there, the latter was startled into action.

Being a much smaller man than the security guard, Mack used his superior speed to sneak in a blow with the unsheathed blade. The guard doubled over, clutching at a rapidly spreading bloodstain on the right side of his torso. Using this distraction to his advantage, Mack spun to the guard's flank, digging the blade deep into the man's back. He pulled in an upward, diagonal slash, cutting the guard from right to left in one clean blow. The man unraveled from existence, a small blue soul left in his wake.

The shiny new watch on Mackheath's hand shone in the morning light. Tucking one of his gloves on and grabbing at the soul with his free hand, Mackheath cleared away the area of the few stray drops of blood that had come from the guard's wound. Idly rolling the soul in the palm of his left hand, he made an apologetic noise.

"Not our usual fare, I'm afraid, but we'll have to make do." Blood cleaned from both rooftop and weapon, Mackheath straightened, sending a morose look at the rising sun. "I suppose we'd best find another place to watch the sun come up, my friend."

Closing the blade with a click, he grabbed his folding chair and slipped out of the roof area. Before sliding the knife back into his pocket, he raised it to his lips one more time.

_Oh please don't take my sunshine away._

* * *

I tried to get this one to you guys soon so as to not leave you on a cliffhanger, since in the original draft, all this was supposed to be in the previous chapter anyway. I'm glad I didn't keep them together, because it would have ended up being a monstrosity if I had let it be.

My boyfriend is visiting me for his spring break, which means that I won't be writing much, if at all, in that time, so you'll have to expect the next chapter in maybe two and a half weeks. Sorry about that.

Much love for all the people who have said kind things about this fic so far. You guys are awesome. :)


	6. Sotto Vento

Author Notes: Sorry that this chapter took as long as it did to get done...taking a week off from writing made it difficult to get back into the groove of things with this. As a little PSA: Each chapter of this is named after a Ludovico Einaudi song that kinda fits the mood and tone of each, so that's why the chapter titles are in both English and Italian. As always, I own nothing, because_- _believe me- if I'd come into the ownership of Soul Eater by now, I would have forced Ohkubo to make SoMa canon.

* * *

Waking up without the shrill call of either alarm clock or meister was an odd experience for Soul. He came to consciousness slowly, enjoying the warmth of his blankets and the memory of falling asleep still in resonance. It must have slipped sometime during the night, because his soul was no longer merged with Maka's when he came to, though a concentrated melody pulsed in his mind, a reminder that she was there in the room with him. If she knew that he was awake, she made no mention of it, letting Soul wake up at his own pace.

A pace he regretted as he looked at the alarm clock and noted that it was already past noon.

He forced himself to sit up, reminded that he had to play at The Dive later that night. As he did so, he caught the bitter scent of coffee. The room was bright, and he had to squint as he looked at his meister. Her brows were furrowed and her legs were crossed, a small laptop balanced on her legs.

"Whaz tha'," he asked, confusion and drowsiness slurring his voice. Her eyes were wide as she turned to face him, hair curling at her collarbones. She had removed her bandage and washed her hair, it seemed, because the dried blood was gone, as were her typical pigtails. The effect made her look older. Having gone a couple months without getting it cut, it was longer than she normally kept it. Soul found that he liked it that way.

Cheeks coloring, she spoke: "I needed internet access and my phone wasn't cooperating. I called in a favor from Shibusen and I...well...I got this." Her foot flexed, brushing against the top of the computer in what Soul assumed was supposed to be an identifying gesture.

Bemusement crossed his face and he stretched. "Usin' Shibusen funds to buy something as extravagant as a laptop, Maka?"

She took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. "I figure that it's payback for their not telling the cops that we're working out here. Besides, it's just a netbook. I made sure that I got a good deal." Raising an eyebrow at him, she turned back to the computer, tapping at the trackpad.

"You went out without me?" There was a peevish tone to his voice, but Maka paid it no heed.

"I didn't want to wake you. You went to sleep pretty late, after all."

He threw a glare at her as he extracted himself from the covers. "So did you, Maka."

Her eyes looked bored as she met his gaze. "I couldn't sleep much. Figured I'd get some work done."

"Is that what that's for?" Soul asked, passing her bed as he walked to the bathroom.

"Of course," she called back. "Why else do you think I'd get it?"

"I dunno." There was laughter in his voice, echoing from the doorway. "Maybe you finally got bored with all those books of yours."

"I bet this would hurt more if I hit you with it," she teased in response. Soul's laughter was cut short. The sounds of him shuffling about in the bathroom, locating one of the three toothbrushes they had bought, melded with the slow tapping of her fingers at the computer. She took another loud sip of her coffee.

Though the pain in her head had mostly died down, Maka had only gotten a few hours of sleep. When she woke, the thrumming bond of resonance between her and Soul had still been intact, though it had felt different than it normally did. It had felt more primal, like their souls were held together by a magnetic force rather than through a force of will. In the moment, it had been terrifying and deeply intimate. Maka had watched her partner's sleeping face as she let herself grow accustomed to the sensation of their unconscious resonance.

Though there was comfort in the presence their bond, Maka had found that falling back asleep escaped her. Frustration with their lack of progress in hunting down Mack was underlaid with her own romantic confusion, causing her mind to work on overdrive. Lacking any other leads, she had decided to take a look at missing person reports, hoping to find insight there. Phone internet proving to be frustrating and ultimately useless, she decided that it was time for Shibusen to pay for her father's negligence.

She was accustomed to her father's antics, but her heart had not hardened enough that this particular betrayal didn't hurt. It seemed as though even his history with the case was not enough to make him prioritize her mission over his personal vice. Even though, by all logic, he should want Mack caught even more than she! Not wanting to risk waking her partner with her anger shaking through the bond, she broke their resonance. It had been like ripping off a bandaid. She left the room as quietly as she could before storming out to engage in the most therapeutic impulse-purchase of her life.

A lazy smile spread on Maka's face. She could hear the sound of Soul scrubbing at his teeth; its mundane nature soothed her.

While out buying the netbook, Maka's anger had fizzled out quickly, leaving her with the tangled mess of her feelings for Soul. Though she had quickly picked out the netbook that she wanted, Maka had malingered in the electronics store, pondering her situation. The disorganized state of her heart offended the part of Maka that demanded order, so as she browsed row after row of silicon, she forced herself to come to a succinct conclusion.

First was, despite the uncertainty with which she had answered Soul the previous night, she suspected that she did, in fact, love him. He had been her best friend for years and she trusted him with her life. If she would come to love anyone, Soul was by far the most likely candidate.

That uncertainty, then, did not stem from a lack of an emotional connection. Neither was it an issue of souls, for she and her partner had long since proven that their wavelengths were exceptional when it came to compatability. Therefore, she thought, her timidity must stem from a dearth of physical connection. That, however, was not necessarily true, since she was now plainly aware of just how attractive she found Soul.

Eventually she concluded that the main thing that confused her about having feelings for Soul was her own preconceptions about how love worked. Her parents' marriage had been rocky for as long as she could remember. Though Maka had watched her flirt of a father woo and win over countless women over the years, she knew little of how actual relationships were supposed to work. The best example of a relationship in Maka's life was Kim and Ox, and she had paid little heed to their doings. Being the bookworm that she was, though, Maka had a steady stream of romance fed to her through the written word for many years. This, she found, was almost as bad as not having a proper example of a real relationship. In books, the romance of the characters was, more often than not, a spectacular thing- something to rattle the stars and warm the bones. If the books she'd read were to be believed, she was supposed to get lost in Soul's eyes, crave his every caress, and feel his absence like a missing limb.

Maka found that she would never be lost in Soul's eyes. They were too expressive, too responsive to her gaze; in his eyes, Maka saw herself reflected. The eyes of her partner were ones in which she could find herself- renew her strength when the tides of battle made her muscles ache. Even in weapon form, his eye was there, watching her, lending her his own courage and determination as they cut down their foe.

As for his absence...Maka had realized with a start that they had been only rarely parted since they had first teamed up. They lived together, worked together, ate together...they'd even come into the habit of studying together, books and papers stacked around them in a little fort of unified academic struggle. When Soul was gone, Maka did in fact feel like she was missing something: her battle-mate, her best friend, her partner. His presence was more important to her than any limb.

The idea of craving his caress had given Maka much pause. Though she could admit to finding Soul's form pleasing, Maka couldn't quite wrap her mind around the idea of their contact being sexual in nature. At first she had assumed that maybe that was because her feelings of love were more familial in nature, but then she remembered the shivers that ran through her spine as his fingers tangled in her hair; she remembered the heightened sensitivity she felt as his hand brushed against her hip in the Black Room. When he brushed his thumb against hers it caused waves of contentment to ripple through her. She was no mindless slave at the mercy of her partner's touch, but she would be a liar if she said that she did not enjoy it. Maka was no liar. Not even to herself.

More than a friend, more than a brother, but not quite a lover, her weapon was the dearest person in the world to her. Their partnership had been a simple thing, despite all the insanity and eccentricity around them. Soul was safe; with him, Maka felt at home. Their love didn't need to rattle the stars, it simply needed to _be._

And there it was: she loved him. Not with the deep passion of the heroine of some Greek tragedy, but with the honest love of a girl who knew that she could happily grow old beside him.

Soul groaned from the bathroom and Maka could see in her mind his look of discontent over another wrecked toothbrush. The sound of his turning the tap echoed more violently than necessary and Maka couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her lips. For all his idiosyncrasies, her weapon was very dear to her.

He sullenly left the bathroom with an expression that was every bit as sour as Maka expected it to be. Knowing that it would cheer him, she spoke: "I called Papa today. We've been given clearance to rent a motorcycle to make getting around easier."

As she predicted, his face split into a grin. "Cool."

"But," she added, her face a mixture of apology and admonishment, "it can't be flashy. And we have to wear helmets."

"What? Why?" His frown was uncertain. "I'm a safe driver, Maka, we've never-"

"It's not because you're unsafe, Soul." She sighed. "Though Papa did try to lecture my ears off about letting you drag me around without being safe. The helmets are to keep our faces obscured. We'll stick out less that way."

Soul looked thoughtful for a moment before sighing in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Maka's lip jutted out and her tone turned pouty. "And I'm not supposed to wear my trenchcoat anymore. It draws too much attention to us."

Soul laughed at her expression as he flopped onto her bed. She squeaked indignantly, hands flying to the netbook to keep it from bouncing off the mattress. Soul stretched out next to her, sock-covered feet hanging off the edge. Though there was space between them, Maka could still feel the warmth of his body next to hers; she fixated on it mentally, but her outward appearance was calm.

Her fingers danced along the mousepad of the laptop in time to the flow of her music. Soul could detect her light unease, but before he could say anything, she looked down at him and smiled. Though the unease remained, her music's tone warmed. He gestured lazily toward the netbook.

"What are you doin' with that, anyway?" Her glance shifted back to the screen. Various pictures of people were listed, their names linked to other pages. The previous night's date was posted under each name.

"I'm looking through the photos of missing people in the area from last night. I was hoping to see if we could find any of them who might be regulars at the Dive...Mack might have gotten to them." The warmth in her face drained as she recalled their mission. Beside her, Soul's eyes were narrowed, but she was aware that his glance was on her rather than on the screen. His soul reached gingerly out to touch hers; how was her head? Was she in pain? She sent him reassuring tones. Aside from a faint hollowness in her head that she was pretty sure was from a lack of sleep, she felt fine. Though he gave her a suspicious look, the question pressure of his soul retracted. Turning on his side, he joined Maka in perusing the missing people files.

The moment passed in relative silence, Maka tapping at the keyboard occasionally and tilting her head as she went through the pictures. From time to time, she would turn to Soul and look askance of him, but he shook his head at all of them.

Maka let the cursor hover over one of the pictures- a woman with a crooked smile and shoulder-length brown hair. There was something familiar to the cut of her face, and Maka found herself wishing that she could have used her Soul Perception. If it was the woman's soul she had been looking at, Maka would be able to know her in a heartbeat, but the meister found that she was better with souls than she was with faces. Beside her, Soul made a surprised noise. His hand laid on her arm.

"I think I recognize her," he said. Maka nodded.

"I think I've seen her before, too, but I'm not sure if it was at the Dive..." her voice trailed off uncertainly, but Soul was insistent. He extended a finger, a tip brushing at the screen.

"Where else would we have seen her, though?"

Maka's lips pursed peevishly. "I just want to be sure."

Soul rolled over onto his back, the absence of his warmth causing her to shiver suddenly. He sat, running a hand through his hair. It was still tousled from sleep, bangs falling into his eyes. "It's a good lead, at least. We can call Louie...see if he knows this 'Sukie Tawdry.' What kinda name is that, anyway?"

His meister punched him lightly in the arm. "You're one to talk, _Soul Eater_."

Though he growled at her, Soul's lips twitched into a smile that bared a few of his teeth. Maka found herself smiling back at him. She wondered if his smile had always been that contagious. "Hey, a cool guy like me has got to have a fitting name." He masked a glance at the alarm clock at the bedside table with a fake yawn. "We gonna rent that bike today?"

Maka nodded, pulling up another tab in her web browser. She gave the rental confirmation a quick glance. "Yeah, the place says we can pick it up at two."

Swinging his feet to gain momentum, Soul launched himself off of her bed. There was impatience in his tone. "That was thirty minutes ago, Maka. We should go."

Rolling her eyes, Maka closed the netbook. "We can pick it up any time today, Soul, we're not going to get in trouble."

"That's not the issue." This came with a withering glance sent over his shoulder as he dug in his bag for a clean pair of clothes. "The issue is that I could have been on that bike sooner if you'd woken me up earlier."

Maka stuck her tongue out, standing and tugging at the comforter of her bed, trying to straighten out the wrinkles. Though they had maid service to attend to the room, she- unlike Soul, whose bed was a nest of crumpled blankets and helter-skelter sheets- felt uncomfortable leaving her bed in a disarray when the maids came in to clean. For as long as she could recall, Maka had always been a calm sleeper. In comparison, Soul was restless, tossing and turning the whole night through. Despite that, he had always seemed rested, something that Maka had found eternally perplexing.

Soul crowed with triumph as he pulled out a clean shirt, quickly shucking the one he was wearing. He kept his face turned away from hers, not wanting to betray the satisfaction he felt the sudden leap in her music. He'd experienced a recent surge in his ability to sense her music. He was pretty certain that recent divulging of certain emotions were to blame, but he found that he didn't mind. The tune of her soul was ever-present in his mind, distant enough to not be intrusive but comforting nevertheless.

He didn't bother to change out of the jeans he'd slept in, which were the same ones he'd worn the night before. Maka gave him a leery glance but chose not to comment on it. The shirt he slept in was shoved unceremoniously back into his bag, the now _questionably clean_ one pulled down his torso. Whirling, he flashed her a grin.

"Let's go get that bike!" The enthusiasm in his tone gave rise to a small giggle in her, but he remained unphased as he herded her out of the room. Maka barely had time to slip on her own sandals for all his nudging. He would have forgotten his own if she hadn't grabbed them and shoved them into his chest as he closed the door behind them.

"You got the stuff we need for it?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling her wallet from a pocket in her shorts. "I just need to show them my ID. I got Shibusen to pay for it electronically so I didn't need to worry about a transfer of funds or anything."

Soul arched an eyebrow as he strode through the hallway at a pace that even Maka, with her long legs, found difficult to match. Despite it all, she found his excitement rather contagious. His expression softened at her smile.

"If they've paid ahead of time, does that mean we've got a limited amount of time with it, or-"

"There'll be a payment extension if we need more time," she cut him off, sending him a falsely irate look. "I thought this through, Soul. Give me credit where credit is due."

His gait stopped suddenly just as he reached the elevator, a strange look on his face. Turning halfway, he shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned forward, and mumbled something dangerously close to her ear.

"You look pretty damn good in those shorts. Credit given."

Maka's face turned a pleasant rosy shade as she awkwardly reached for the elevator's call button.

* * *

Regardless of what had been said the previous night, Maka was almost entirely certain that Soul had found love with their rented bike. It was a work of sleek metal, painted black to be relatively inconspicuous but still stylish, even to Maka's untrained eyes. Soul drooled over the contraption for a while, talking all the while with the rental employee, words flying over Maka's head at a million miles per minute. She made a quick mental note to pick up a book on motorcycles. Despite the fact that she had little interest in them, her inner know-it-all hated being ignorant of a subject. It also wouldn't be too unhelpful if she could hold up a conversation on the topic with Soul. He was unusually animated as he talked with the attendant, his hands moving wildly to and fro. She did her best not to roll her eyes, but found herself unable to succeed.

Soul was, fortunately, too engaged in his conversation about the motorcycle to notice.

She leaned against the bike, enjoying the relatively cool temperature of the metal against her body in comparison to the heat of the sun. Though she lived in Nevada for most of the year, she had never quite gotten accustomed to being in the sun uncovered for long periods of time. Idly she wondered if she was going to develop a sunburn. She hoped that she wouldn't; the strange hollow feeling in her head was bad enough. Rubbing at her neck, she heaved a sigh.

From behind her, Soul's voice quietened. The attendant continued speaking, but after a minute he trailed off as Maka could hear footsteps behind her.

"Maka, you okay?" Soul's hand was on her shoulder. Too lazy to turn fully, she allowed her head to dip downward so that she could peer up at him upside-down. Though the blood in her head sloshed somewhat painfully, she remained in the position mostly because she found that she liked his look of bemusement.

"I'm fine, Soul. Just a little bored." She shrugged, lifting her head. Soul walked around the back wheel of the bike, coming to Maka's side with a small frown.

"You sure? Your head..."

"Is fine," she supplied, shooting him an exasperated glance. "I'm a little lightheaded, but my mental acuity is as sharp as ever. The concussion wasn't bad."

Another of the rental employees leaned out of the front door of the office, calling in the one who had been talking with Soul about the bike. He turned and gave a quick nod to the both of them; Maka and Soul both responded with a quick wave done in unison. She giggled a little at their synchronization and he shrugged.

"If you want, I can drop you back off at the room after we check in about Sukie. You can take a night off from watching over the Dive"

"Are you kidding me?" Maka's voice was as incredulous as he predicted it would be.

"Ehh, figured I'd ask," he said. "'s not my fault you're a stubborn ass that refuses to take a break sometime." He nudged her out of his way as he slid astride the motorcycle. His fingers danced lovingly on the handlebars. "She's not my baby," he said thoughtfully, "but she'll do. Especially in a pinch like this."

Maka's hands were on her hips then, mouth drawn into something caught between a scowl and a pout. "I am not a stubborn ass, Soul. I'm only doing what makes the most sense. You going by yourself wouldn't be logical, since you can't use Soul Perception."

Soul bit back an acerbic reply that her Soul Perception hadn't been of much use thus far. Instead he met her gaze evenly, patting the back of the bike's seat impatiently. Though concerned about his partner's well being, he knew that arguing wouldn't make the situation any better and he found himself wondering how the toned-down Yamaha would compare to his Harley. Soul's tastes leaned to the obnoxious when it came to bikes- he liked them loud and gaudy- but he could get behind something sleek if it went fast.

Maka slid in behind him cautiously. She was perched on the seat, music thoughtful. The bike was smaller than Soul's, narrow and with a shorter saddle. Though they had both grown in the years that they'd been riding the bike together, there was still plenty of room for the both of them, and Maka had the backrest to help support her. Since the Yamaha had none, she was going to have to wind her arms around his waist when the bike was in motion or risk falling off.

"C'mon, Maka, I wanna give the new girl a ride." Soul's tone was encouraging. She rolled her eyes at him, albeit fondly, before gently placing her hands on his shoulders. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she sighed, leaning in to wrap her arms around his torso.

"Happy?" she grumbled. He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, though he knew that if Maka had half the mind to do so, she could feel the irregular thumping of his heart against his ribcage. Her scent had enveloped him, maddening and yet comforting, and he revved up the engine, satisfied with its smooth purr. Though it wouldn't entirely distract him, Soul knew that the dissonant wind against his face would be enough to dull his sudden uncertainty. From behind, Maka's arms tightened on his waist. She had never been fond of the first burst of speed that came from starting a motorcycle. Though she had grown accustomed to Soul's Harley after years of riding with him, the new bike left her feeling somewhat apprehensive. Her music tinkled nervously.

"We'll take the scenic route to the Dive," Soul declared to the wind as he leaned into the bike and sped off onto the road.

* * *

"Lottie is a weapon? Why didn't you tell me that before?" Maka's indigence echoed through the Dive, causing Louie, who was polishing the bar, to look up with a startled expression. The surprise soon drained back into the sadness that had recently settled into his features. His face had taken on a grey pallor that was clearly evident when he let them into the building. Smiling wearily, he had written off all concern that Soul and Maka had expressed to him.

"The topic never came up last night and I figured that I'd tell ya today. It's not like it could have helped much last night, anyway." Soul patted her shoulder. "You know now."

"If I'd known this morning maybe I'd have been able to do better research when I got the netbook," she grumbled. Soul matched her gaze challengingly.

"Then maybe you shoulda woken me up earlier."

Maka raised her hand to where his rested on her shoulder and squeezed it a little harder than necessary. Soul did his best not to wince.

"Fair enough," she said smoothly. Her hand did not leave his, however. For a moment they stood, gazes level, until both relaxed. Soul's hand fell back to his side and Maka raised hers to her neck, gently kneading at the flesh there. A small moan escaped her lips as she did so and Soul's cheeks tinged.

Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Also, your old man told me to watch out for any working girls here." Maka ceased her massaging to shoot him an angered look, but he laughed it off. "No, not like that. He said that when he was on the case, the only lead that he could find was a prostitute who...uh..." Soul trailed off, his courage fading as Maka's eyebrows traveled higher up her forehead. "...er...serviced...several of Mack's victims. He thought that she might have some sort of connection to the case. So if she's still around, we might wanna look out for her."

There was a mixed look of pleasure and disgust on Maka's face. She heaved a heavy sigh and straightened her shoulders, but her eyebrows resumed their normal position. "Well, at least Papa's womanizing ways helped him out in that situation. I don't know why he couldn't have just told us about this earlier, though. It's important information for the case."

Soul shrugged, turning towards the bar. He kept his face neutral as he spoke. "I think he felt a little uncomfortable tellin' you about it. Makes sense, too, since you tell him you hate him all the time. He'd probably want to preserve what little opinion you do have of him." Gesturing with his head, he directed Maka towards the bar. "He did say that your mom didn't like it much."

"Can you blame her?" Though Maka's tone was light, there was a hardness in the look she gave him. Soul shrugged in response and nodded curtly to Louie. The bartender smiled in response, pulling two glasses from the underside of the bar. Maka looked alarmed, but Louie raised a hand to her disapproval.

"Not gonna foist any contraband on you two. I thought I might as well give ya some of the good stuff we got in." Two bottles of an amber drink clinked onto the cabinet in explanation. "This here's my favorite cream soda in the whole world. Figured that I should share with ya."

Soul grinned, pushing at Maka's shoulder. He was careful to not be too forceful, however, concerned that he would knock her head around too much. She stuck her tongue out in a playful response, sliding gracefully onto a bar stool. Spinning to the side, she propped her feet on the adjacent seat, forcing Soul to move around to the other side. Instead of taking the one spaced away from her, he sat on the one to the left. Leaning back, she rested against his shoulder. His quiet chuckle shook her.

With the practiced grace of someone who had been doing so for years, Louie poured a bottle into each glass, the froth just barely touching the rim but not overspilling. It effervesced quickly, however, and Louie pushed a glass each in front of the meister-weapon pair without spilling a drop.

"So you two heard about Lottie, then?" There was faint amusement in his tone, but Louie's face remained neutral as he turned away, a cloth in hand. He began wiping down the shelf behind him.

Maka's fingers traced hesitantly along the rim of her glass. It was cold; she wondered if the glasses were kept in a refrigeration unit under the bar. Soul, on the other hand, took his glass and gulped heartily from it. His meister watched as the glass left his lips along with a satisfied sound. "I gotta say, Louie, you know your drinks. What did you say this stuff was?"

"Cream soda." He sounded distracted as he lifted a bottle of tequila so he could wipe under it. "I gotta say that I like it a spot more than I do most kinds of alcohol, 'specially that brand. And of course I know my drinks; it's my job."

"Speaking of," Maka leaned forward, a few tendrils of her hair falling to pool on the surface of the bar. "How did you know about Lottie? Did she tell you that she was a weapon?"

"Of course." Louie shot Maka a look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched at her untouched glass. Her posture indicated a sense of chagrin as she carefully lifted the glass to her lips. Louie returned to his cleaning. "You don't work with someone for nearly a decade without learning a thing or two about them. I've got a vague sense of Soul Perception, myself, so I knew that there was something a little special about her when we first met. It was subtle enough that I initially mistook it for attraction. Asked her out on a date, and, well..." His shoulders shook as he chuckled. "You shoulda seen the look on her face. Might as well have asked her to move to Mars or somethin'." He turned in time to see the appreciative glow in Maka's eyes as she took her first sip of the drink. "Whatcha think?"

"It's good!" Louie might have taken offense to the surprise in her tone if not for the earnestness in her smile. "Remind me to have you write down the brand. I'll see if I can't get some for us when we go back home."

Soul gave an approving nod, but his confusion was evident in his knit brow. "You didn't tell us how you found out that Lottie was a weapon, though."

"There came a night, a few years after Jenny brought Lottie in...we had a group of girls come in that sang with her. Good kids. Young, but they had a lot of promise. There was a guy who'd had a bit too much to drink and thought it'd be a good idea to grab at one of the girls when they passed. Lottie was off that stage in a heartbeat, telling the guy that they needed to talk." Louie snapped the cloth in his hands after giving one final wipedown of the shelf. He tucked it in his waist pocket and leaned against the bar. "Thought I'd follow after her, ya know...to give her backup if she needed any. Turns out she didn't." Another glass clinked onto the surface of the bar. "She had the guy pinned to the wall, telling him that he even thought about hurting those girls, she'd have his head. Lottie's a strong gal. Had one hand against the guy's shoulder and another at his throat. Though in place of the hand there was a pretty round blade, instead."

"Did Jenny know about her?" Maka asked. She took another delicate sip of her soda, contrasting her partner who'd practically drained his whole pulled two more cold bottles from under the bar, filling the third glass with one and topping off Soul's with the other.

"Yeah. When I asked her about it, she just gave me one of her glares and told me that I was gonna need to grow a spine if I wanted to work in a place like the Dive. As it turns out, Jenny got Lottie out of a tight spot some years ago and that's how she got to working here." Louie took a quick sip of his drink. "Damn, this stuff is good."

"Tight spot?" Soul asked.

"I don't know the details, myself, but from what little I do know, whatever Lottie was doing before was not exactly legal."

"So she owes Jenny?" Maka's ponderous tone was shattered by a bark of laughter from Louie. It startled her enough that she nearly dropped her glass, rocketing forward in order to try to rebalance the cup as it nearly slipped from her fingers. Without her leaning against it, Soul's shoulder felt suddenly cold. Amusement lit up Louie's features and he seemed happier than he had been since she and Soul had first came to the Dive.

"Owes her? Jenny wouldn't be able to keep this place in one piece if Lottie wasn't here. If anything, Jenny owes her." He took a deep drink of his soda, a grin pulling at his lips lopsidedly. "That lady's got talent and spunk, everything she'd need to make it big. But she stays here and keeps her nose clean. Watches out for Jenny and the rest of us. No need for a bouncer when we've got Lottie here to watch our backs."

"You could have mentioned this to us when we first came here, you know," Soul grumbled. "Maka could tell that Lottie was special, but we had no idea that she was a weapon."

"If we'd have known, we could have had another pair of eyes looking out," Maka added.

Louie's expression sobered. He straightened and rubbed a hand against his unshorn jaw. "You think she isn't already watching out? I'll let you in on a little something- Lottie always watching. You may look at her and think she's just some singer that uses shock effect to best advantage, but you'd be wrong. Lottie's sharp as a tack and ruthless in a way that you'd better hope you never see. Don't worry, Shibusen students, _you're the extra pair of eyes._"

Heavy silence filled the room as Maka and Louie's gazes met. Louie's warning had not fallen on deaf ears; Maka knew a thing or two about being underestimated, herself. But the bartender was going to need to learn that she wasn't going to back down. When Soul thought she wasn't looking, he stole a quick drink from her glass.

He tried to keep a straight face as she pinched him mercilessly on the leg. At the same time, Louie seemed to find whatever he was looking for in Maka's eyes. His posture relaxed somewhat and he took another sip of his soda.

Maka, on the other hand, took a piece of paper from her pocket. Details about Sukie Tawdry were scribbled hastily in Maka's messy script. Soul had long teased her for not having small, cute handwriting, but she had always asserted that it was an adaptation that allowed her to do well on tests. "Have you got a pen on you?" she asked, eyes sliding from Louie to Soul and then back. Louie shook his head, but Soul managed to dig a pen stolen from the rental agency out of his back pocket. Maka thanked him quietly and scrawled two phone numbers on a section of the paper. Ripping this off of the page, she handed it to Louie.

"Those are mine and Soul's numbers," she said solemnly. "If Lottie needs anything, tell her to call us, okay? We may be her extra pair of eyes, but together we're also another sword arm."

Soul quirked a brow. "More specifically a scythe arm, but I guess we don't need to argue about that." He finished off the last of his second glass of soda and laughed as Maka drew her own closer to her chest. Louie took the scrap of paper with a somber nod, tucking it into the front pocket of his button-down shirt. He patted it before leaning forward on the bar, an eye on the sheaf that the scrap had come from.

"So what's this?"

Maka made a motion as if to scratch the back of her head, but she stopped herself, arm hovering awkwardly above her. A light blush tinted her cheeks as her music tinkled in embarrassment. Reading this, Soul slid his hand over the paper and cleared his throat to draw Louie's attention away from his meister.

"We did some looking into recent disappearances and we found someone who looks familiar," he explained drily. "Does the name Sukie Tawdry mean anything to you?"

Louie's eyes widened in horror. "Sukie's gone missing?"

Sadness sank into Maka's features. Her jaw felt like lead as she spoke. "Unfortunately yes. I suppose that means that she's another regular here?"

Louie's gaze fell to the ground. "Yeah." His voice was clipped as he choked on his anger and grief. "She wasn't here last night, but she was never one of the nightly regulars so we didn't think much of it."

"I'm sorry," Maka murmured. The sentiment was delivered in earnest, but it seemed as if her previous news had rendered him insensate. He clutched at the bar, fingers slipping somewhat on the polish that he'd so recently rubbed into the grain. The meister shot a concerned look at her partner, but he shook his head. Soul could read her rising empathetic reaction to Louie and he slid a comforting hand down her arm, letting her grasp it with her own. They could see Louie's shaking, though neither was sure if it was a response born of his anger or of his fear. Maka let a moment of tense silence pass before she continued.

"Was she...special?" she asked softly.

"They're all special," Louie whispered, his intense gaze lifting to meet hers. "This whole place is special. Anyone who comes back has something special about their soul. They're drawn in like moths to a flame. I always figured that like comes to like, you know? It was always a good thing..." There was a plaintive note in his voice as he spoke. "This was a safe place."

"We'll do our best to make it safe again." Maka's hand squeezed at Soul's almost painfully. His face remained stoic. More words would be unnecessary in this situation, so he simply nodded resolutely when his eyes met the bartender's. There was a wildness in them that Soul found that he understood. He imagined that it was the same look he got on his face whenever something threatened the life of his meister. The look on Louie's face was one of a man who would stop it nothing to protect what little he had left.

* * *

They were in their hotel room again. After having Louie promise that he would call Lottie and deliver their numbers, Maka and Soul had left the Dive and the grieving bartender. Though he'd made a hesitant attempt to pull away, Maka would not let Soul's hand out of her grasp. They had remained clasped together until they reached the motorcycle, at which point Maka let go, albeit with a pout. Soul had found it rather cute, but their encounter with Louie was sobering enough that he didn't tease his meister. She had gripped at his waist more tightly than before as they returned to the hotel.

They took a quick detour to the store, looking for the brand of cream soda that Louie had given them. They'd found it in a specialty drink section, and Soul could hear Maka's lilting distaste at the price, but she had said nothing about it as she grabbed two four-packs from the shelf. When he inquired about her head, she had told him that she felt fine and that he didn't need to worry. He knew better than to ask her if he should help her carry the bottles.

As they carefully loaded the soda into the saddlebag, Maka had murmured, "The Dive means a lot to him." Soul had nodded, weaving the straps through their buckles.

"It means a lot to many people. But we'll get everything back to normal." He straddled the motorcycle, patting down the saddlebag one last time to ensure that it was secure. Satisfied, he crooked a finger at Maka, who sat down slowly. Her breath puffed against his neck in a sigh.

"I don't think they _can_ be normal again."

"We'll do our best."

She'd said nothing in response, but when she wrapped her arms around his waist Maka leaned forward, resting her forehead between his shoulderblades. He listened to her melodic sadness for a moment before gunning the engine.

* * *

Though they'd stopped to get something to eat after they picked up the motorcycle, Soul found that he was hungry again as they parked in the hotel garage. When he mentioned it, Maka echoed the feeling. Her sadness had drained away at some point, leaving her music uncommonly still. Soul found it profoundly uncomfortable that he couldn't read her expression well, but he said nothing. His meister collected the bottles of cream soda from the sidebag, a small smile forming on her lips when she realized that they hadn't broken during the trip. Hands full, she gestured for Soul to lead the way so that he could hold the door open for her. Though he rolled his eyes, Soul did so.

They made a brief stop in the lobby to inform the desk attendant that their reserved parking space would be housing a motorcycle for the rest of their stay. Taking it well into stride, he gave them a tag on a stretchy band and told them to put it on the handlebar the next time they brought it into the lot.

When they arrived back at the room, Maka beelined for the fridge, putting the sodas in and withdrawing a couple pre-packaged dinners. She tossed one at Soul, which he had to scramble to catch. He shot a glare at her, but when he noticed that it was Salisbury steak, he grinned. His meister knew what he liked, though her delivery could use some work.

She had sat at the edge of her bed, her own tv dinner deposited on the bedside table. She fiddled with the ends of her hair, fingers flexing irritably. Soul could read the edges of distress in her music, though he couldn't determine what it was about. He tossed his own meal in the microwave before approaching his meister.

"What's the matter?"

Maka looked up into his face, her music flaring with a startled crescendo. She opened her mouth to deny that anything was wrong, but the look that Soul shot her sealed her lips shut. Her fingers continued to fiddle with ends of her hair. Heaving a sigh, Soul flopped onto the bed beside her. Though he laid down, she continued to sit.

"I can't pull my hair back," she muttered quietly, "and it keeps getting in my face and it's just really distracting to have it down like this."

"Why can't you- oh." Soul's confusion was cut short as he remembered the location of her head wound. He reached out and gingerly placed his fingers on the back of her scalp. He could feel the damaged skin through her hair, but her music didn't project the banged-keys sound of her pain. "Maybe you could braid it?"

Maka's face was turned away from him, so he couldn't see the blush that crept into her cheeks. He could, however, hear the embarrassment in her tune. "I never learned how. Papa always liked to put my hair in pigtails. Mama kept her hair in a long braid, but she never taught me how to do it..."

"I figured that Liz 'n' Patti would have taught you at some point, though." He let his fingers thread through the ashy strands. Maka's hair was thin, but it was silky-soft and he found himself wishing that he could lean forward to breathe in her scent.

"Patti always wanted to play with Tsubaki's hair, not mine. Liz tried to give me hair advice once and I...uh...kinda bit her head off. She's not mentioned my hair since."

Soul chuckled. "You can be pretty scary. If you bit her head off, I don't blame her for never bringing it up again." He gave a very light tug to a side strand of her hair, careful to not irritate the injured part of her scalp. "Do you have a hairband?"

Maka peered at him over her shoulder, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Hairband, moron, _do you have one?_"

Maka nodded, still looking baffled, and leaned over to grab a hair tie from the bedside table. He took it from her as he sat up, positioning himself behind her. From the other side of the room, the microwave beeped loudly, signifying that Soul's meal was done. Maka tried to get up to take it out, but Soul put a hand on her shoulder.

"Just wait a minute."

She frowned peevishly. "What are you going to do, anyway?"

He tugged a little less gently. "Braid your hair. So hold still."

Maka could feel Soul hovering behind her, fingers picking at her hair thoughtfully. "How do you even know how to braid, anyway?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was a boy scout?" he teased absently. She shivered when his fingers brushed lightly against the nape of her neck as he separated her hair. Soul felt smug as he realized that her surprised tinkle of notes had been a reaction of pleasure. He was careful to repeat the same 'accidental' brush on the other side and was gratified with another shiver.

The tone of her response harshly contrasted the pleased hum in her soul. "Not even for a moment."

Soul laughed raucously. "Good call." His fingers were gentle as he started to plait his meister's hair, keeping the weave loose so that it wouldn't strain her scalp. Nevertheless, he kept a careful focus on that hum, watching for any sign of her banged-keys pain.

"I like to think that I know you pretty well."

"You do," he assured. "Better than anyone." A comfortable silence settled over the room. Maka didn't have much hair to work with, so Soul took his time, enjoying the feeling of her hair under his fingers. Her pleasure was underlined with confusion, however, and Soul felt it through her music with a level of embarrassment. As he twined another thread of hair, he twined his soul with hers.

_I used to braid my mother's hair when I was young. _He accompanied the statement with a few images of his mother's long hair cascading down her back. When he was little, he'd always looked at it with wonder and wanted to run his fingers through it. She'd taught him how to braid it as an effort to keep him occupied, but he'd loved doing it. The chestnut brown hair had slid through his fingers like silk. They were precious moments for him- no need for piano playing or proving himself.

Maka sent him an appreciative hum. He was always rather tight-lipped about his family, and Maka hadn't wanted to pry. She let the admission that she'd always wondered what his mother looked like flow through their still-forming link.

Soul sent her a stream of his family's images- his mother with her olive skin and dark hair and the red eyes that both he and his brother had inherited, his father with the snowy hair and frigid blue eyes. They'd been elemental to him, dark and light, fire and ice. Wes was a better blend of the two of them, filled with austerity and passion and cold, hard talent. Soul had always felt closer to his grandmother, with her silvered hair and blue eyes like faded denim. She was a stubborn lady, even in her old age, and he had loved her most.

Maka's end of the link was filled with quiet thoughtfulness as she processed the information she was given. It was unusual of him to be so forward, but she supposed that their conversation from the previous night was grounds for a changing of approach. She considered this, fingers playing with the cuffed ends of her shorts. Maka could sense the delicate care with which Soul was treating her- not only her hair, but also with her. He was afraid to cross boundaries, to push things too far. Maka understood the fear; it was one that she also shared. But she knew that this stasis was something that they were going to need to upset at some point, and if he wasn't going to do it...

Soul could sense the lurking idea in Maka's brain. Their resonance was shallow, both of them too much in their own heads to be in a state of perfect sharing, but Soul knew that his meister was plotting something. Her anger hadn't spiked at all, so he knew he wasn't about to get Chopped. Binding off the tail end of Maka's hair, he tried to prepare himself for whatever his meister was about to pull.

He was distantly aware that he botched the preparation as his meister's lips crashed against his.

* * *

I'm hoping that I'll be able to get the next chapter out within a week, but no promises. The good news is that after this chapter, I am halfway through Affinity, excluding an epilogue that may or may not be written. Also there's a chance for a TsuStar partner fic that is in the Affinity universe, so if you're interested in seeing that, you should totally let me know so I can see where I need to prioritize it in my list of writing projects. :)


	7. Lady Labyrinth

Author Notes: I own nothing, as always.

* * *

His lips were rougher than she had expected them to be. They were also still, and it made her feel foolish for the furious pressure with which she pressed hers against them. In books she'd read, it seemed as if kissing came naturally to everyone, but Maka found that it was shaping out to be a more complicated endeavor than she had predicted.

Making a frustrated noise, Maka wound her hand around her partner's neck and moved her lips forcefully against his. Her teeth pressed painfully to her skin. She waited for Soul to reciprocate, but he seemed frozen in her grasp, his breathing shallow. She squeezed the back of his neck slowly, trying to project her desire for him to do something- anything- that would let her feel less of a fool.

Soul could read the earnest frustration of his meister's music and there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to gather his meister into his lap and kiss her silly. But this was too fast, too soon...her scent was in his nose and her warmth was pressed too close and her lips were harsh on his in a way he had never expected. He'd always envisioned their first kiss to be something gentle, something _he_ initiated.

This impassioned, somewhat violent kiss was not what he expected at all.

Her hand tightened at the nape of his neck, preventing his halfhearted attempt to pull away from her. Growling in frustration, he slanted his lips against hers, using the leverage to tilt her neck. The extra space between them gave him the chance to pull away. Using one of the hands that he had been using to support himself as Maka leaned against him, Soul tangled fingers in her hair.

Smiling, he leaned in so that his forehead was touching hers. Her music flowed in frustration and embarrassment, causing Soul to chuckle softly.

"That wasn't what I expected it to be," she grumbled. Her hand slid off his neck, fingers splayed against his thigh. She breathed a heavy sigh, causing Soul to gather her chin in his hands.

"No, Maka," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers with a gentle pressure. "Don't be upset."

He could feel the furrowing of her eyebrows against his skin. "You didn't kiss me back. I thought-"

"Maka, don't." He tilted her chin upwards so that their foreheads were separated and their lips were only a hair's length apart. Soul could feel her soft breath against his face. "You were being too aggressive...it's hard to kiss ya back when you're pressing that hard."

"Well, I've never done this before, so..." Maka's cheeks tinged slightly.

"It's kinda hard to study for kissing," Soul supplied, a grin splitting his face. "Why don't we take it a bit more slowly this time?" Turning his head, he let his lips ghost against the corner of Maka's mouth. His grin widened in satisfaction as he felt her shiver.

"I suppose practice makes perfect." Maka's hands were tugging at his neck again, trying to bring their lips together again.

"My meister, the bookworm," he breathed against her skin. He kissed her cheek deliberately, listening to her music flare from the teasing. "Mine."

Maka's eyes flashed as she took a deep breath through the nose. "Mine," she repeated, voice forceful. Soul rolled his eyes at her tone, but he leaned in closer, letting their lips just barely touch.

"I love you." It was a whisper, a promise. Though they were pressing into the shady territory of the unknown, all would be well. They were partners, bound by their souls; this new ground would not undo them.

Maka's quiet 'you too' was swallowed by their mouths coming together. It was more gentle this time, the pressure of Soul's lips against hers cautious and exploring. Though she felt impatience rising in her, Maka fought the urge to press more urgently. Kissing, she found, was not like fighting. She could not simply strongarm her way through it- it required finesse and precision and a knowledge of how one mouth fitted against another and she wasn't quite sure how to manage it.

She stretched her soul out to meet his, hoping that the resonance would help them find a more pleasant medium. The link shimmered lightly between them, amplifying their sensations. A small moan escaped Maka's lips, but before she could feel embarrassment for it, Soul responded in kind. Soul's hands, still cupping her chin, tilted her face upwards slightly, pushing her bottom lip more firmly against his. Slowly, as if it were an experiment, he ran his tongue along the curve of her lip. Though, intellectually, she found the sensation to be strange, something in her was quite pleased when he did it again with more confidence. As he did it one more time, he sent a careful tendril of suggestion through their link. She caught it and parted her lips slightly, wavelength vibrating as he took her bottom lip into his mouth.

His end of the link radiated caution, urging her to hold still while the points of his teeth worried her skin. Maka had never realized just how sharp his teeth were; she felt a sudden surge of empathy for her partner and how disastrous it must have been for him to learn how to eat without hurting himself.

_Now that's not a very romantic thing to think about,_ he teased. He let his teeth sink a little into the tender skin of her lip, pleased with the moan it awarded him. Maka found herself torn between reaching for a book to deliver a Maka Chop and continuing to let her weapon administer his careful attentions to her mouth. She leaned back a little, letting their lips slide apart. She took in a shaky breath, the cold air of the room stinging at her oversensitized lip. Soul raised a questioning eyebrow, but before he could say anything, she was leaning back in, lips parted, and taking control of his mouth again. Trapping his bottom lip with her teeth, she was about to return the favor when the harsh ringing of her phone- too loud in the heady atmosphere of the room- startled her.

She jumped and while doing so, the underside of her bottom lip ran too quickly against one of Soul's sharp teeth. A faint taste of copper filled her mouth as she pulled away from her partner.

A look of deep embarrassment crossed Soul's face as he read her mental twinge of pain. Though the resonance made him aware that the cut didn't pain her, Soul inwardly cursed his sharply pointed teeth and his own lack of caution.

He reached out to see if she was okay, but she gestured at the still-ringing phone. "Answer it. It might be important."

Part of him wanted to growl at her commanding tone, but he had the sense of mind to say nothing as he rolled on his side and grabbed Maka's phone. Louie Miller's name flashed up on the caller ID and Soul felt his stomach drop. Maka awkwardly mouthed "who is it" behind the fingers she held to her lip.

Soul accepted the call, mouthing "Louie" in response as the it connected. Simultaneously he heard Louie's harried greeting and his meister's soft cursing. In a normal situation, he would have stopped to tease his meister, but there was too much distress in Louie's voice.

"Woah, woah, woah. Louie, calm down. I can't understand you." Apparently Soul's gruff approach was successful enough in calming the other man, because he gave a deep, shuddering breath.

"It's Lottie. I can't contact her. Normally she's really good about answering her phone, but I've been trying since you two left and she's not answering and I-" he took another sudden breath. "What if Mack got to her?"

Soul recognized that tone of voice. Being members of Shibusen's EAT class and put into constant danger, he'd spoken in that exact tone many times before. More than for himself, Louie felt fear for Lottie's life. And he, unlike Soul, couldn't resonate with the woman, couldn't draw her soul close to his. Couldn't throw himself in front of an oncoming blow to protect her. Louie was scared and helpless in the face of a killer with sights sent on the woman he loved.

"Where would she be at this time of day?"

"Home. She gets ready for the show pretty early and then comes here to help set up. She'd be due to arrive here at the Dive in the next hour on a normal day." Following Soul's businesslike tone, Louie tried to speak directly. The hysteria in his voice drained somewhat.

Maka was leaning in close, trying to hear what Louie was saying. She'd taken her hand off of the cut and Soul could see one beaded drop of blood on her lip. Scooting aside to give her room, Soul set the phone on the mattress and turned on the speakerphone so that his partner could hear clearly.

"Are you sure her phone didn't just run out of battery? She could walk into the Dive at any moment, it sounds like." Soul's tone didn't match the critical nature of his words.

"No. When you two came in, Jenny told us to keep our phones on at all times in case anything unusual happened. You guys have met Jenny. When she tells you to keep your phone ready at all times, _your phone is ready_."

Soul and Maka made brief eye contact. She nodded slightly, sliding from the bed. He could hear gentle rustling sounds from somewhere in the room, but Soul's attention was back on the phone. "Do you want us to go check on her? Maka's Soul Perception is strong. She could find Lottie in a heartbeat, since her soul doesn't have a Protect on it."

Louie's voice was shaky: "Yeah. Yeah, I'd rather that I have to explain to Lottie that I sent you two after her than not find out until tomorrow that..."

"I understand," Soul reasoned."We'll be out looking for her in a few minutes. Could you send us her address and any other places she might be?"

"There's a coffee shop out on Chicago Ave that she likes. Sometimes she grabs something from there on her way over. I'll text you the address...and her home address, too. Would you two check there first?"

Soul nodded for a moment before realizing that Louie couldn't see the gesture. He managed a quick 'yeah' directed at the phone speaker before narrowly dodging one of his shoes as it sailed past his ear and under the other bed. Whirling, he managed to catch the other footwear projectile that Maka lobbed his way. He hissed in annoyance as he bent to pick up the other shoe from where it had fallen. Though he turned to give Maka a stern look, he appreciated the determination in her eyes. Her boots were already strapped onto her feet. Soul knew the look she had on her face and he knew that it meant for hell for anyone who thought to get in their way. Soul found that he was grinning despite himself.

* * *

In any other situation, Soul would have enjoyed the way Maka's arms were tightly wound about his waist. Immersed in resonance as they were, she was faintly aware of that fact, but the majority of her mind was occupied with filtering through her Perception. Since she was only tenuously familiar with Lottie's wavelength, Maka was forced to extend her sense into a wide web, processing each soul they passed. The sheer amount of focus she needed required that she bury her face in between Soul's shoulder blades, trying to shut out the sights and sounds around her. Soul found her breath to be alarmingly shallow, but she had sent him a hazy assurance that she was fine.

Soul had initiated their resonance again in an attempt to help her with the processing. Though most of his attention was on navigating the bike in the direction of Lottie's townhouse, he did what he could. Their combined senses and wavelength were enough to keep a proper scan of the people around them, though the diameter of their range was only a few blocks- dismally small for Maka's normally extraordinary skill. This made her soul pulse in frustration and her fingers clench lightly at Soul's waist; neither of them had the energy to waste on anything except an irritated acknowledgement that Chicago was much larger than Death City.

Though they were closing on the location on Lottie's home, Maka had yet to sense the weapon's presence. A road detour had caused them to go in a roundabout method, Maka's Perception just barely missing the block. Soul had cursed their bad luck and the awful traffic, finding that he rather missed the near-empty streets of their hometown. He resolved to take a long drive into the desert, taking advantage of the open road, as soon as they got back home.

On the plus side, the rental bike navigated well and was even a spot more graceful than his own. It wasn't flashy or loud, but it had a coolness of its own that Soul could respect. He turned a sharp corner, pleased with the ease of the maneuver.

_Soul, I found her!_

Her hands squeezed him forcefully as she zeroed her focus on Lottie's faint wavelength. It was barely on her radar, but now that she had a proper sense of Lottie's soul, she could let the sensation of the other souls around them drop off as she zeroed in on their colleague. But the amplified sensation of her panic had rebounded on Soul, causing him to start violently. The bike swerved in a drunken fashion, causing Maka to hold tighter to Soul's waist as he worked to right their position. Though he managed to do so, he narrowly missed hitting an oncoming car, which honked its annoyance as it sped away.

Dread flooded the link as Maka resurfaced from the depths of her Perception.

_She's three blocks east of here, Soul. But she's in trouble; there's distress in her wavelength. _She coupled the message with a concentrated sensation of Lottie's wavelength.

_I'll get us there, Maka. But try not to do that again. _Though his words were gruff, Maka felt his alarm. Soul turned the throttle, gunning the bike to move faster as they weaved through cars. Maka had removed her face from his back, eyes on the street.

Now that her focus had cleared, Maka could tell that Lottie was flagging and tired from being pursued. Try as she might, Maka couldn't quite get the sense of the pursuer. If Lottie possessed a sense of Soul Perception, her father would have told her. Which meant that in order for Lottie to be aware of her pursuer, he had to be close enough to be within the range of Lottie's five senses. Logically, Maka should have been able to identify the soul that had Lottie on the run. But she couldn't sense any predatory intent in any of the souls in the area.

The cold realization that Mack's soul was Protected set in.

_Soul I think this might be-_

_Mack._ Soul's tone was dark. _I know. Are you going to be able to fight? We don't know what we're going to be up against and if you're not feeling your best-_

_My head is fine. _Maka replied firmly. _We'll get him, Soul. We've got this._

Soul flashed a brief grin over his shoulder before turning the bike again sharply. Maka's resolve was solidifying their link, resonance jumping in power until their thoughts ran together in a seamless flow. Battle-ready, they rounded on the street where Lottie was supposed to be.

But her soul had somehow vanished.

Confused, Maka deepened her sense of Perception again, trying to relocate Lottie's soul, but it had disappeared from Maka's radar entirely.

"Did Mack...?" Soul's voice was a disbelieving murmur, almost drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle's motor. Maka motioned for Soul to pull the bike into a nearby parking spot as she shook her head.

"I don't think so." It was not an answer, but a completion of their shared thought. Her eyes scanned the street. Everyone was walking along as if nothing had happened. Surely if a monster had leapt out and consumed someone's soul, there would be mass panic.

And there was a malingering sense of familiarity to the situation that Maka couldn't quite identify. Lottie's soul hadn't pulsed in the same sort of panic that most souls felt immediately before death. It was more as if a sudden curtain had been drawn, creating a barrier that Maka couldn't penetrate.

The engine of the bike quietened as Soul turned off the engine. Maka leapt off the motorcycle with grace, barely glancing at both sides of the road before darting across. Her weapon followed, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he tried in vain to help her locate their wayward soul.

"The last place I recall sensing her soul was this alleyway," Maka barked, grabbing at Soul's hand as they ran. He arched a brow at her, despite knowing through the link that it was mostly for convenience's sake- if she needed him to transform into a scythe, he would already be in her hands, prepared to strike. A faint tinge of pink flooded Maka's cheeks before she stubbornly turned away, rounding the corner of the alley.

Maka skidded to a stop, Soul a hair's breadth ahead of her. The alleyway was clear of all but a few dumpsters and a lonely-looking shoe. The link flared with their shared frustration. Squeezing her hand in consolation, Soul tugged Maka forward. They proceeded cautiously down the alley, hands still clasped in preparation for a fight.

They were less prepared for the invisible wall they both walked squarely into.

* * *

He'd been tracking her for a few hours and she was growing tired.

Lottie knew a thing or two about tracking an enemy, and whoever it was that was on her tail had a lot of experience. The only reason that she was able to evade him for as long as she had was due to the fact that he'd been unwilling to attack her when she was in a large group of people. It made sense, after all- attacking someone in broad daylight tended to attract attention to oneself.

The man phased in and out of Lottie's vision. Sometimes she would see him- small, demurely dressed, face concealed by a hat with a floppy brim- and sometimes he melted back into the crowd or was entirely absent from her vision. No matter where she went, though, he would come back into her vision again within the next ten minutes. The weapon assumed that the tactic was supposed to make her feel trapped, to make her panic and make mistakes.

Instead it solidified her certainty that her stalker was the man that Shibusen had warned her about- the same man who had taken to killing her friends. For him to be able to track her without being in direct line of sight meant that he was tracking her through Soul Perception. Knowing this, Lottie had kept at her game of evasion, testing how long Mack was willing to keep up the pursuit. Her phone vibrated in her pocket at almost exact increments of ten minutes, but Lottie ignored it, knowing it was Louie. She wanted to prevent his involvement. At heart, Louie was a gentle soul; he would be nothing short of useless in a fight.

She had been more lax in her artifice in the first hour that he had followed her, testing to see if he would simply lose interest. After that, she was more careful in her maneuvers, deliberately weaving in and out of crowds and making sudden alterations in her course. Even someone with Soul Protect would have to focus hard to combat her evasion, but the phone in her pocket had buzzed a full twelve times and Mack had not dropped her trail. It was clear to her that Mack was not going to give up. she beelined for a familiar alleyway- an old place for meeting the intermediaries of former clients. Though she didn't want to encroach too much into Shibusen's territory and draw unnecessary attention to herself, Lottie had been given a golden opportunity to exact her vendetta. She would not be fool enough to let pass the chance to rend his throat.

As she rounded the corner, she reluctantly removed her phone from a pocket. Rolling her eyes at the number of missed calls, she dialed Louie's number. Mack was a few blocks away, so she had a few moments to call Louie. He'd make sure that Jenny and the Shibusen agents knew what had happened, in case anything went wrong.

But just as the phone began to dial, she heard a hoarse voice behind her and the call suddenly dropped.

Led by instinct, Lottie transformed her hand into a blade as she whirled. Though she had been wrong about Mack's location earlier, she was well aware of where he was now. It was only due to his incredible dexterity that Lottie's opponent was able to dodge her blow. The curved edge of her hand-blade glinted in the dim light of the alleyway. Mackheath straightened with a threadbare smile.

"I knew you were a good choice." His voice was much softer than Lottie had expected it to be, but she found enough menace therein for her lip to curl in distaste.

"Care to tell me what you mean there, bub?" She kept her tone playful, hoping that the conversation would buy her valuable time. Preliminarily sizing her opponent up wouldn't take too long, but every extra moment to observe the way he moved would be precious.

"Your soul is quite strong- I've been needing one like yours for quite some time. I've been living off scraps for too long."

Lottie's eyes narrowed dangerously as her second hand flashed into another rounded blade. "Scraps, you say?"

Reaching into his coat, Mack laughed thinly. He bowed mockingly as he withdrew a pair of spotless white gloves from a pocket. "I've found your Dive to be slim pickings for the caliber of souls I require. Nor has it given me the kind of combat experience I've been hoping for." He slid the gloves onto his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. "I get the feeling that you'll change that."

Lottie changed her position, hoping to give a facade of relaxation. With a deliberate opening in her guard, she was enticing Mack to strike. She was enthused when he did.

The blade seemingly came out of nowhere, withdrawn with alarming speed from an inner pocket of his long coat. This didn't deter the weapon as she spun. She threw out her hand to carve an arc in the location of her opponent's shoulder. When her blow missed, she realized her foe's strike was a feint and quickly sidestepped to miss a cleverly aimed jab towards her ribs. The knife sailed high, cutting through the air where Lottie's neck had previously been.

"Yes, you'll do," Mack muttered, evading a blow from one of Lottie's elbows. He responded with another shot for the jugular that caught nothing but air.

"I'll do?" Lottie quipped, raising an eyebrow as she whirled to flank him. Mack moved in tandem, keeping his back out of her range. "I hoped I'd make more of an impression than that." She lunged, blades flashing towards his throat.

"You're not Shibusen-trained." He parried her with surprising ease. Lottie's chakram blades had the advantage of being larger, but Mack wielded his smaller jackknife with an ease that evened the playing field. Though she hated admitting it, Lottie had to acknowledge that she was outmatched when it came to skill in hand-to-hand combat. Though she learned a thing or two when she ran "favors" for the mafia, she mainly carried herself with assassination and information-trafficking. Her experience with melee combat was not going to be enough to carry her through the fight.

Lottie eyed the entrance to the alleyway, calculating the steps necessary to execute her contingency plan. Mack's skill had taken her by surprise, but she knew that he wouldn't want for the fight to spill over into the street. It would give her the chance to try and make her call again. If she got the information on Mack's appearance to Jenny, she was damn sure that her boss would make sure that the bastard was found.

"Well, if that's a disappointment, I could always find a better sparring partner," Lottie cooed, voice calm as she narrowly avoided a cut aimed at her thigh. "I'm not in the business of sticking around with men who don't appreciate me." She took a few steps back, letting Mack push her towards the entrance. It surprised her that he was allowing her the additional ground, but it only eased her exit strategy.

His movements hastened, the knife slashing in wider arcs- aiming to draw blood. Lottie did her best to evade without losing her additional ground. Parrying a shot to the shoulder, Lottie reached out with her free blade. Though she knew that Mack wouldn't let her cut at his stomach, it would push him further back, allowing her to dance out of his range and into the street, where he wouldn't dare follow.

Mack turned to protect his torso as Lottie expected and she made a break for the side of the alley. She was a little shocked to see Maka and Soul turning the corner of the alleyway at the same time, but she wasn't going to complain about a little backup at that point. Mack was glancing at the newcomers with a dull sort of curiosity, head tilted. His knife glinted as he turned it in his hand thoughtfully.

Lottie threw her hand out to greet the Shibusen members, but they didn't seem to notice. Lottie watched as the meister suddenly fell, her partner pulled down by their interlaced hands. To Lottie, it looked like they had crashed into an invisible wall.

She heard a low chuckle from where Mack crouched, echoing menacingly through the alley. Lottie reached out again, this time not in greeting but feeling for the barrier that the Shibusen students had hit. Mack's laughter deepened as her transformed hand clinked as it hit the invisible wall.

Lottie pivoted to face him; he was hefting his knife as he shuffled toward her. She made a disgusted sound and swept her leg along the ground in an attempt to break his gait. Mack simply leapt closer to her, forcing her to take a few more steps back as he slashed wildly across her torso. One of her heels hit against the invisible wall.

The pit of her stomach dropped as she realized that she was cornered. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see the meister-weapon pair pull themselves off the ground. If they could see her, Lottie couldn't tell, but she knew that she couldn't count on them being able to back her up.

Her mind raced, trying to formulate a new plan. Mack now had the advantage of extra mobility, coupled by his greater experience with hand-to-hand combat. Though she didn't know the details of whatever magic he has enacted, Lottie knew that she couldn't count on there being an easily accessible exit.

The only option left was to incapacitate him.

She took a deep breath, allowing Mack to approach as she steeled herself against the wall. Sneering, she let her blades revert back into hand form. Mack raised an eyebrow at this, relaxing his posture enough to give her the opening she needed. Lottie launched herself off the wall with a bloodcurdling cry, reaching for her opponent as she transformed again. Circular blades protruded from the front of her body, but she kept her hands so that she could pull her opponent against the lethal steel.

There was a sharp pain as his knife slid between her ribs but despite this, she kept her limbs locked around her opponent, forcing him to thrash to attempt escape. He dislodged the knife as he did so, the absence of the blade causing Lottie's blood to spill more quickly onto her blouse. She wanted to make a quip about his ruining her good shirts, but she found that both breathing and speech were difficult for her. He must have punctured her lung. Lottie cursed inwardly and tightened her grasp, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest. The more Mack struggled, the more he lacerated himself on her blades.

Holding the man down proved more difficult as time passed- breathing was becoming increasingly more painful with each breath, and Mack thrashed violently, trying to throw himself from Lottie's grasp. She slid her bladed arm up towards his neck, trying to cut at the flesh there, but Mack had the sense to throw his chin downward and lift his shoulders, protecting his jugular. The curved steel dug into her opponent's cheek and shoulder, his blood spilling down her arm. Lottie managed a weak smile just before Mack was able to toss her.

She landed in an ungraceful heap against the invisible wall, legs failing her as she attempted to stand. As she crumpled, Lottie gasped for air. Her blades retracted; she'd lost too much blood to maintain her weapon form and she was quickly losing consciousness. Despite this, she managed one last look of defiance at her opponent.

He wasn't looking at her, however. Instead his eyes widened in something that looked like horror and spun on his heel. The wounds she dealt had taken their toll, Lottie realized with pride. Mack limped as best he could to the other end of the alley. It took her sluggish mind a few moments to realize that it was strange that he left no bloodstains on the ground as he walked.

* * *

As soon as she crashed into the wall, Maka realized why the situation had seemed so familiar. It was eerily similar to the Independent Cube that Free had cast upon the ballroom of Shibusen. When she told this to Soul, he was quick to remind her that not even Shinigami-sama had been able to break from that enclosure.

_It was visible, though,_ Maka thought, pulling herself up from the ground. Though she had managed to avoid hitting her head on the barrier, there was a ringing pain that made her stand more slowly. Soul's hands were at her shoulders in a heartbeat, concerned for her head, but Maka waved him off. _I'm fine. And I think that we might be able to break this wall. _

Soul's end of the link vibrated questioningly as he tried to process Maka's disjointed flow of thoughts. She made a conscious effort to straighten them, making a clear line of cause and effect for her partner to follow. A grin split his face as he understood.

_It's not the magic of an old witch; it's just a cheap trick. That means that it'll be easier to break._ He slipped his hand back in hers, giving it a quick squeeze before transforming into a scythe. The sunlight bounced off the curve of his blade and reflected oddly upon the air before them.

They immersed themselves in resonance, letting the music of battle flow through their souls. Maka took a deep breath, lifting Soul high above her head. Her Anti-magic wavelength poured freely into his, pooling with power. It formed along the his blade, stretching the steel into iridescent angles as Djinn Hunter began to form. Power singing in their veins, they let out a battle cry in tandem, ready to cleave the barrier before them.

But before they struck, the barrier simply vanished and the illusion faded. They saw Lottie collapse into a small puddle of blood only a few steps to their right. Mack was nowhere to be seen, but Lottie's breathing was shallow and her face was frighteningly pale.

In an instant, Soul was back in his human form, pulling Maka's phone from her pocket as he jerked his head in the vocalist's direction. Maka nodded almost imperceptibly and knelt beside Lottie.

The woman managed a wan smile as Maka inspected the puncture. "Mack took off in the other direction. I got him almost as good as he got me. If you hurry, you can catch up with him."

"Not on your life," Maka frowned, looking up at her partner, who was already talking quietly with a dispatcher. "Soul, I need cloth to press to her wound."

"Remind me to smack you for that pun when I'm able to move my arms," Lottie wheezed. She attempted to lift her arm, but the sharp pain in her chest proved too much for her to handle. There came a rustling sound as Soul pulled off his shirt and tossed it to Maka. The meister set Lottie on the ground gently, rolling the bloodstained blouse up so that she could firmly press the cloth to the stab wound. Hissing in pain, Lottie did her best not to shrink away from the pressure.

"I look forward to it." Maka smiled grimly.

It was foolish for them to let their enemy escape, but without their efforts, Lottie's life was forfeit. For Maka, there was no question what the proper mode of action would blood from the wound was already starting to soak through Soul's shirt; Maka kept her weight firmly pressed against the wound.

"Right side chest cavity wound, puncture due to..." Though her words were for her partner, Maka looked askance at Lottie.

"Knife." Her voice shuddered. The added pressure to her chest was not making breathing any easier.

"Knife wound," Maka clarified, shooting a quick glance at Soul, who repeated the information into the phone. "Possible lung collapse," she added.

"Is she still conscious and breathing?" he asked.

"Screw you," Lottie mumbled. Though the sound didn't carry far, the brief quirking at the corner of Soul's lips made it obvious that he heard her.

The white-haired weapon nodded a couple times, muttered the address of their location, and closed the call with a jab of a finger. "Police next?" He looked questioningly at his meister.

Maka nodded. Lottie noted dimly that the girl wasn't wearing pigtails like she had been last time. Some of her hair had dipped into the puddled blood as she had knelt down, painting the tips with dark red. It had smeared onto her arm, as well, lurid against her pale skin. "Shibusen can be alerted later. Lottie said that Mack headed off in the other direction. I think the next street up is...Hurion? Just give them our current location and they should be fine." Maka turned her gaze to Lottie and her eyes softened. "How are you feeling?"

Lottie had to keep herself from laughing, knowing that the pain of the motion would incapacitate her. "How do you think?"

Maka's eyebrows furrowed in what Lottie realized was self-reproach. Lottie bit back a grin, afraid to laugh and cause her wound further irritation.

"I meant how well you were breathing," she mumbled.

"I'm fine," Lottie replied. "You called an ambulance, so-" she took a sharp breath "-I'll be okay. But if you're on the phone with the...cops you're gonna need...information on Mack, right?"

Maka shook her head. "Breathing is hard for you right now. The information can wait."

Lottie glared at the girl. "Don't be a moron. He's small...short. Pretty thin, too. Stronger than he looks, though." Her ragged inhaling forced her to speak in short sentences. "He was wearing a hat. Couldn't see his hair." She did her best to raise her voice. "You hear me, piano boy?"

Soul made a grunt of acknowledgement, raising his eyebrows at Maka before turning his gaze to the street. Their actions had attracted a crowd who had gathered some feet away, kept at bay by Soul's occasional flash of teeth and harsh glare. He did his best to keep his voice neutral as he spoke with the police, conveying the information that Lottie had given him while trying to keep their onlookers from getting too close.

A man was struggling through the crowd, his cries made incomprehensible by the general babble of the crowd. In his hand was a battered suitcase that looked as if it had been hastily packed. He was undeterred by the white-haired weapon's fierce grimace and pushed to the front. A couple muttering girls gave the man matching churlish looks as he rifled through his suitcase. Upon finding what he had been looking for, he approached Soul, holding up a small white card.

"I'm a licensed EMT. I live in the apartments a block down and a neighbor ran and told me." His voice was breathless as he held the suitcase for Soul to inspect. Medical supplies rattled around- bandages, salves, antiseptics. "Is there something I can do to help?"

Soul stared the man down, trying at the same time to process the words of the police captain who was speaking to him over the phone. Reading the earnestness in the man's face, he nodded quickly, stepping aside so that the man could get to Lottie more quickly.

The police were assuring Soul that any officers dispatched to watch for Mack in the surrounding area would be ordered to avoid engaging in any sort of combat when Maka stepped quietly beside him. Her thin hands rested briefly on his shoulder before ghosting up to his neck. He resisted the urge to groan as her calloused fingers kneaded at a knot in the nape of his neck. Gathering at the threads of their lingering resonance, he sent her vibrations of gratitude. She smiled tiredly in response.

"And you'll call us if anyone spots Mack?" Soul asked.

The captain gave him his assurance, picking up on the finality in Soul's tone.

"Cool. Just a heads-up, though: this is my partner's phone, so she might be the one to pick up. Thanks." He let his arm fall slack, eyes drifting closed as Maka continued to knead at his neck.

"When did the ambulance say it would be coming?" she asked quietly, keeping a careful eye on the crowd before them. One of the grouchy girls from earlier had taken a couple steps forward, but when Maka curled her lip at the girl, she jerked back as if burned. The other murmured a few words to her, pulling at her shoulder. The meister carefully noted the brief furrow in in the girl's brows before she relaxed and let the other pull her into the middle part of the crowd.

"It should be here in the next five minutes, I think. Is she going to-"

"She's going to make it," Maka firmly said, hoping her sheer determination would ensure Lottie's good health. "Eric says that the wound could have been a lot worse. It missed most of her organs, though it punctured her lung."

Soul cracked an eye open to gaze confusedly at her. "Eric?"

"The EMT," Maka explained. "He's a nice guy." Her fingers paused as a thoughtful look struck her face. "Speaking of, we should call Louie."

Soul heaved a ragged sigh. "Yeah, I know."

"Not looking forward to it?" Though Maka's tone was light, he could feel her sympathy for Louie rattling untended through the link. "I know what it's like to see the person you love collapsed in a pool of blood. It's not a nice feeling."

Soul's eyes flew open as he turned a surprised look at his meister. Her lips pursed briefly but her hands continued their ministrations. She gave a rolling shrug.

_I do, you know,_ she added, pulling at their link quietly.

His looked down at her intensely.. _You _what?

_Love you. Even though you're a moron. _Maka's gaze turned briefly to where Eric was hastily tending to Lottie. _Life's too short for me to drag my feet about it. Especially considering how dangerous our lives are._

Soul's lips curved as he leaned in towards her, brushing a kiss against her hairline. "I don't think you know how long I have waited to hear that," he murmured. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers and she shivered at the sensation.

"You should call Louie," she mumbled, finding the sudden pounding of her heart almost as distracting as her partner's self-satisfied grin. Her words managed to kill the grin somewhat, though he brushed his thumb against her cheek one last time. Their link shimmered with his promise to pick up the conversation at a later time.

Stepping away purposefully, Soul found Louie's number in the contacts list of Maka's phone and dialed, watching his meister as she went to find him another shirt.

* * *

Jenny's expression was a thing of nightmares as she stormed the hospital room. Any attempts to veil her rage had failed as soon as she saw the tube sticking out of Lottie's chest.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a vocalist with a punctured lung?" Her loud arrival caused the woman in question to stir.

"Sorry there, Jenny," Lottie wheezed, "I tried telling him that stabbing me might hurt my career, but I guess that he's not a good listener." She managed a smile, squeezing Louie's hand as she did so.

The bartender had arrived at the hospital ten minutes after the ambulance, looking especially bedraggled and depressed. He had cheered somewhat when Maka informed him that Lottie's condition was stable, but as soon as he was permitted into the room he had gone to Lottie's side, grabbed her hand, and hadn't let go ever since.

Jenny shot an irritated glare at the injured woman. "Quiet, you. I'm pretty sure that your snark isn't good for your health."

"Neither is your grouchiness," Lottie teased. She gave a weak laugh at the imposing woman's scowl. "C'mon, Jenny. As far as we know, I'm the first person to survive a Mack attack."

Soul couldn't help but snort. Maka shot him a peevish glance that mirrored Jenny's, but the weapons shared a conspiring smile.

"This kid isn't too bad," Lottie continued, jabbing a thumb in Soul's direction. "It's a damn shame I didn't get to see him action. I get the feeling he might be a better weapon than piano player."

The corners of Soul's mouth drooped a little, but he kept up with Lottie's teasing all the same. "You're talking to a Deathscythe, lady. One of the most powerful weapons in the world. Saying I'm a better weapon isn't too much of a stretch."

Lottie's grin spread. "Fair enough, kid." She nodded to Jenny. "You might want to just let him take the stage for the next few days. Tell everyone that you want to spotlight the new talent."

"Actually," Maka chimed in, aiming a cautious glance at the owner of the Dive, "we- Soul and I, I mean- were thinking that maybe you should close the club down for a few days." She colored a bit when Jenny turned a sharp gaze on her. "I know it might not be good for business, but if you shut down for a little while, maybe send out a warning to the regulars and let them know that there's someone out there with a taste for...well, maybe 'taste' is bad phrasing..." The young meister trailed off, not sure where to look to avoid the intense scrutiny of the woman before her. She found some solace in noticing that Louie was nodding in response to her words.

"I think that we should close down for a few days," he said quietly. "If we do, I can stay here and watch over Lottie."

"I'll be fine, Louie." Lottie squeezed his hand again. "The hospital staff will take good care of me."

Louie's brows knit together in concern. "But if Mack comes back to finish the job-"

"You'll be absolutely worthless in any attempt to fight him off." Jenny's tone was more curt than usual. "So instead of one soul, we'd be feeding him two. Don't be a moron."

The man looked crestfallen, curling in on himself as he let his hand slide out of Lottie's. The shadows under his eyes looked like bruises in the sickly hospital lighting.

Jenny sighed. "Unfortunately, closing the Dive does seem like the best option for now. I'll get the word out to the regulars that they need to keep an eye out. Some of them can defend themselves, but others are going to need help." She eyed Lottie. "Though if even you can't fight him off, we're obviously dealing with someone far beyond our range of expertise."

Sensible shoes clicking against the laminate floor, Jenny headed for the last open chair beside the door. She sat in the chair, spine straight, shoulders squared, looking for all the world as if she were the Queen of England. Maka found that, despite her crisp manners, Jenny was someone she rather admired.

Brushing at her pants, Maka stood. "Jenny, if I may..."

"If you must," the woman replied drily.

Soul snorted again, knowing full well that he would pay for it later as Maka glared at him. His meister cleared her throat once and straightened her posture.

"We were given further information on the case by our superiors from Shibusen. Apparently in the last string of killings done by Mack, most of the victims were also customers of a certain...uh...call girl. They had reason to believe she was connected to him somehow."

Jenny's expression hardened. "What does this have to do with the Dive?"

Maka shifted as she stood, widening her stance and throwing a hip out in what Soul recognized as a sign of defiance. "The attacks of the past shared a central locus of connection. This person...her name was Chantelle, I believe, might be the reason that the Dive has become Mack's chosen hunting grounds." She gave an uncharacteristically passive shrug. "But it's just a theory. Take it as you will."

Jenny's expression was stoic; a pregnant silence filled the room. Then, echoing Maka's previous action, Jenny cleared her throat and stood. "I'll look into it. Check the rosters of employees and their past experiences. I hire all sorts-" she shot an almost amused glance at Lottie, "and even though I can't remember anyone by that name, perhaps someone slipped through the cracks."

Maka's posture relaxed. "It might not turn up anything useful, but better something than nothing."

Jenny nodded, acknowledging the logic in the girl's words. Her eyes did a quick scan of the room, taking in everything. Louie sat with his head in his hands as Lottie breathed shallowly beside him. Soul was slouched in his chair, looking as if he were perfectly comfortable where he sat. But his crimson eyes darted around the room nervously, inevitably falling upon his partner every few moments. He, like the rest of the room, startled when a nurse strode angrily into the room.

"This is a hospital room, not a lounge," she said with a fearsome scowl. She shifted her clipboard under her arm as she checked Lottie's chest pump, looking meaningfully at Jenny. "I need to take care of the patient, so I am going to have to ask you all to leave and come back during visiting hours."

Jenny's face was sour as even she was chased out into the hospital hallway.

* * *

So this is a week late and I'm really, _really_ sorry about that. This chapter gave me a lot of trouble and odat pulled extra duty trying to help me work my way through my awkward fumblings. I honestly have no idea how long it will take for me to get the next chapter up, since finals are right around the corner and if I have as many problems writing as I did with this chapter, this is gonna be another few weeks. So we'll see.

Thank you to all the people who have been supportive about this and have dealt with my constant complaining on Tumblr. Endless appreciation and love for those of you who left such nice reviews. You are lovely people. 3

To everyone who lives in areas that have experienced major upsets this past week:  
I sincerely hope that you and yours are doing okay.


	8. Inizio

Author Notes: Hi, everyone! It's been...a while. Heh. Much as I would like to say that I was so long in updating due to my new ownership of Soul Eater, that would be false. I do own a few bottles of cream soda, though. But not the rights to them.

* * *

There was an eerie silence in the air as they stood in the hospital hallway. Jenny was fuming; being thrown out of the hospital room had offset her already uneven temper. The angry clenching of her hands contrasted the thoughtful wringing of Louie's. Maka noticed grey at his temples that she was pretty certain wasn't there a few days ago and she risked a thoughtful smile in his direction. His responding grimace was vague and lifeless.

Beside her, Soul made a discontented noise. Though Jenny shot the weapon a harsh glance at the intrusion on their silence, it seemed to be the impetus that Louie needed. He cleared his throat as his hollow gaze met Soul's.

"Say what you need to say."

Soul made a quick jab to the bartender's shoulder that so reminded Maka of Black*Star that she found herself laughing despite the inappropriate situation for mirth. Both Jenny and Louie wore matching confused glances, but before Maka could think of a way to explain, a shadow of a smile twisted the bartender's lips. Jenny gave an indifferent shrug.

"This frustrates me," Louie began, voice shaky. Jenny snorted derisively. Though Maka assumed that it would have deferred Louie, it seemed to bolster his confidence somehow. His voice cleared. "Lottie told me in the ambulance that she didn't answer my phone calls because she didn't want to 'get me involved,' and now this…." Hands shaking, he combed his fingers through his hair. "I don't like it. I want to be helpful. I'm tired of just cleaning up the bar and waiting to hear if another one of my friends has gone missing."

Maka gave him a rueful smile. "Believe me, Louie, both Soul and I have been there." She looked over to her partner, who nodded his agreement.

"We're one of Shibusen's best teams, but neither of us is particularly good if we try to work with other partners. If one of us is hurt—"

"—then both of us are essentially out of the game. We've sat on the sidelines and watched our friends be hurt more times than we'd care to remember." Maka finished Soul's sentence grimly. She tugged at her hair, realizing that at some point it had come free from its braid. The dried blood at the ends crumbled against her palm.

"The problem, Louie, is that you have no combat skills other than the very basic self-defense you were taught when you came to work with me." Jenny's tone had softened, but she kept her arms crossed. Her brows furrowed. "About the only strategic value you offer is that of bait." She jabbed a finger into Louie's chest. "And I refuse to let you take that role, so it's the sidelines for you."

Louie's mouth thinned as his eyes flared. For a moment it looked like he might argue with Jenny, but the fierceness of her expression made him back down. He sighed.

"Are you actually going to close down the Dive, then?"

Pained reality cracked her expression as she slumped against the hospital wall. A nurse pushed a cart past, giving the four a concerned look. Jenny rubbed at her temples.

"It appears so." Jenny's voice was curt, but held a notable undertone of defeat. Her anger drained away, leaving a terribly exhausted shell. Maka's music welled with apologetic notes.

Though Maka spoke softly, her voice seemed to fill the hallway around them. She was looking at the floor, hands plastered to her sides. Soul knew that she was trying to hold back tears. "I'm so sorry. We're supposed to be the best that Shibusen has to offer, but we can't seem to keep your people from getting hurt."

Jenny snorted, though the sound had little heart in it.

"Don't get yourself too worked up about it. If even your old man couldn't hack it, I doubt that you'll have an easier time of it."

Something in Maka's posture stiffened, her gaze still glued to the floor. Her intensity was palpable. Jenny also seemed to stiffen as she gave an almost awkward, thoughtful scratch to her head.

"My…old man?" The meister's voice echoed eerily in the hallway, causing Louie to flinch. "How do you know that Papa was the one—"

Jenny attempted a casual wave of her hand. It looked more like she wanted desperately to swat at a fly. "It happened in my town, you know," she said. She managed to sound offhand. "And my intelligence network has been in place for longer than you've been alive."

Maka's head raised, almost mechanical in its stiff motion, and nodded. Her music screeched harshly with confusion and alarm, but she managed to match Jenny's tone with a small 'oh, I see.'

Louie cleared his throat, finding the tension in the dim hallway somehow more unpleasant than the constant ambiance of sickness and chemicals that pervaded the hospital. A worn smile stretched his face, though the skin around his eyes crinkled sadly. "Well, today has been one hell of a day; what say we…" Louie trailed off uncertainly, a hint of a blush forming on his cheeks.

Jenny shot him a no-nonsense glare.

"What I was going to suggest was that we head back to the Dive for a bottle of cream soda, but I realized that was…you know…a bad idea." The sentence ended lamely, but it didn't seem like anyone in the hallway noticed. Maka was resolutely staring at a wall, looking for all the world as if she could bore a hole in the plaster by sheer will alone. Her weapon hovered nervously beside her, a thumb gently brushing at the nape of her neck. Jenny's own gaze had fallen to the floor, a hand massaging at her temples absently as her mouth twitched. Louie began to stammer out an apology, but before he could speak, Soul looked up with a toothy grin.

"Actually, that sounds like a great idea." He patted Maka's shoulder, the motion jarring the girl out of her reverie. She looked almost startled, but something unsaid passed between them and she nodded with a small smile.

"Anything for that cream soda of yours." She reached up to grasp the hand that her weapon had left on her shoulder. Her gaze shifted to Louie's and he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. "We might need to make a quick stop somewhere before we head to the Dive, though."

Both Soul and Louie tilted their heads at almost the same time. Maka gave a playful squeeze to her weapon's hand. "We don't have helmets yet, remember?"

Soul gave a ragged sigh, years of exasperation weighting down his tone. "But that's so not coooool."

Maka gave him a rather short look and Louie's dim sense of Soul Perception registered a brief flare of both their souls.

"Maaaaaaaka," the weapon quietly drawled, his voice sounding as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to sound pleading or sensual and ended up being an awkward mix of both. The meister raised an eyebrow.

Their faces went through a quick succession of microexpressions, and Louie realized somewhat awkwardly that they must be having some sort of nonverbal conversation through their souls. The realization made him feel as if he were suddenly invading on something very private, though the pair seemed temporarily engulfed in their own private world for a time.

He sent a meaningful glance in Jenny's direction, to which she responded with a tremendous rolling of her eyes.

"You're not going to get me to talk to you like that," she said icily. "It's just a thing that those Shibusen pairs do."

The familiar sting of her irritation calmed Louie's nerves. He scanned the room for a chair to sit in, choosing a threadbare armchair stuffed awkwardly in the corner beside the coffee machine. Gesturing vaguely toward a slightly less beaten up chair of the same material, he prompted Jenny to sit.

In any other circumstance, she might have taken offense to the suggestion that she needed to relax. But the heavy weight of a long day that was nowhere near being over dragged her to the corner with the bartender.

Her posture was markedly slumped in what might have been defeat.

* * *

It took a great deal of effort on Soul's part to calm down the rising alarm in Maka. Her mind was awhirl with suspicion—how had Jenny known? Sure, she might have had an intelligence network back then, but how would she have known the _name_ of the Deathscythe who had been sent to track down Mack first? How had she known that it was Maka's father?

Soul's side of the link swelled with reason and calm; Spirit was not exactly the most surreptitious of individuals and Jenny obviously had a much larger operation than they had initially realized.

Maka saw the sense in her weapon's words, but she couldn't shake the panicked feeling in her gut. It was a hunch, but hunches had saved their asses too many times for her to simply ignore it.

_She's playing the hand too close to the chest for comfort._ Her soul pulsed plaintively.

_I agree. _Outside the link, Soul gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. _But I don't think it's grounds for us to panic just yet. She's like Stein—she only tells you what you need to know and keeps the rest to herself. _

Maka's eyes met his. _I want to talk to Shibusen about this. _

Soul nodded his agreement. _But we should go get some cream soda first. It's been a tough day and that shit is really fuckin' good._

Maka didn't have the energy to scold him for his language verbally, but a twinge of displeasure knocked at the link. It only seemed to encourage Soul's toothy grin to widen.

_Fine, _Maka conceded, trying to smother any sign that she also shared a desire for the soda. _But we're getting those motorcycle helmets first._

_You drive a hard bargain, meister. We're gonna look so uncool. _

Maka made a big show of rolling her eyes, and slowly detached her soul from her partner's. Though she withdrew from the deeper connection that allowed soul communication, there was a sort of contact Resonance that remained, as if simple proximity to her weapon was enough to make their souls connect on a fundamental level.

She absently wondered if it had anything to do with their kiss earlier that day.

A laugh racked her slight frame, causing the others in the hallway to look at her in the brief alarm of people whose nerves had been rubbed raw. The meister shook her head. "Just a funny realization," she assured. She started to raise a hand to wave in apology, but realized that her fingers were still entwined with Soul's.

Her stomach felt funny.

"If it's the same to you guys, I think we're gonna head out." She nodded awkwardly in Louie's direction. "Meet you at the Dive in an hour or so?"

"I'll be waiting with two cold cream sodas for you guys." The amiable nature of his smile managed to make it less wan.

"Make that six," Soul grinned, untangling his hand from Maka's so that he could throw a companionable arm over her shoulder. They both felt comforted by the closeness of the motion, though it seemed to make the funny feeling in Maka's stomach worse. "I like those."

Jenny, aware of the young meister's nervously shifting gaze, straightened. "I think I'll join you all for a drink or two. I've got a lot of phone calls to make tonight. I might ask for something a bit stronger than cream soda, though."

The almost-awkwardness in her voice made Maka give another shaky laugh. Both Soul's and Louie's smiles widened.

"Only if you're buying," Louie teased, the levity smoothing his sad wrinkles but not quite lighting up his eyes.

The owner of the Dive turned and gave him an imperious look. "You can put it on my tab."

Their laughter rang so loudly in the hall that the irritable nurse who was attending Lottie poked her head out of the room and threatened to call security if they didn't all leave that instant.

* * *

Fortunately, the two Shibusen kids didn't seem interested in staying long. They both entered, removing dark-visored motorcycle helmets that concealed their faces. Soul's hair was tousled from the helmet, but Maka's hair seemed untouched. The weapon often laid a comforting hand on the shoulder of his meister, who looked up at him with worried eyes.

True to his word, the weapon drank a full four and a half sodas. The other half of the fifth was consumed by the girl, while he played the piano at her request. He had done so with a reluctance that seemed strange in someone who played professionally, but something in his meister's eyes made him go up to the unlit stage. The tune he played was almost cloyingly upbeat.

There was a small smile on the bartender's face the whole time. He liked this. He liked _them._ Though Jenny had her own feelings on Shibusen and the meddling role they played in the lives of people with unusual souls, Louie had found the two quite pleasant in the few days that he had known them. There was a fire in the girl's eyes that reminded him a lot of his sister; she was tough, but hadn't the meanness of a big city set into her bones. Maka Albarn was a girl to be proud of.

And her weapon, that Soul—he was something of a punk and could be rather crass, but he was loyal. In probably any other case, Louie would have said that the boy didn't deserve a girl like Miss Albarn, but the bartender knew full well that the weapon would have died for her. For Louie, that was enough.

It also helped that the kid played a mean piano.

Louie would miss them. In the short time that they'd been in the Dive, they'd seemed to fill the ever-increasing void in the place. It had always been a sanctuary for extraordinary souls in the midst of a city where no one knew your name, and Louie had loved it for all that it offered. These two kids, with their souls of power far more extraordinary than anyone who had come before them, had filled the club with vibrancy and life.

But no more. Even Louie, with his dim sense of Perception and even dimmer capacity for precognition, knew that this blow would be the one to bring the Dive to its knees.

Lottie was the club's heart and soul. She had kept the place going for years, bringing in new entertainment and keeping an eye out for the first sign of trouble. With Lottie around, even with the regulars suddenly vanishing, the Dive had felt safe.

Louie had run his hands along the smooth counter of the bar and gave Jenny, who was sullenly drinking a glass of cream soda ("It's the spirit of the thing," Louie had said. And Jenny, though she muttered something darkly about spirits, took the soda and popped the top of it on the edge of her stool) a sidelong glance.

Jenny was a hardass and often had the soft touch of a drunken bruiser. But she, like the white-haired weapon, was loyal to the very end. If anything in the world was certain, it was that she would bring this Mack character to justice.

Even if that meant the end of all she loved.

So despite her secrets and brusque demeanor, Louie had found himself quite fond of his boss. She, like Lottie, was part of what made the Dive so special. If Lottie was the Dive's heart and soul, then Jenny was its backbone.

But tonight she seemed tired. There were shadows beneath her eyes and a cast to her face that looked almost haunted. Occasionally she would look worriedly over to the ashen-haired girl at the other side of the bar. Maka never seemed to notice. In fact, she seemed as if she were making a concerted effort to avoid looking at Jenny at all. Normally her eyes were always scanning the room, soul pulsing with the effort of trying to sense any disturbances in the club. But now, her focus seemed to be entirely on her weapon and on avoiding any sort of contact with Jenny.

When Soul had finished playing—placing the cover over the ivories almost reverently—Maka had stood, thanked Louie for the soda, and gestured meaningfully towards the door at Soul. When she turned to wish Jenny a good night, she had done so woodenly. If Jenny took notice of this, she had made no sign of it. She warned the meister to be careful on her way back home.

The pair had left the Dive with their helmets on and their fingers entwined. There was still a large amount of dried blood on the collar of Maka's shirt.

Jenny waited for the sound of the motorcycle leaving the alley before she spoke.

"I fucked up."

It was a simple enough statement, but it took Louie by surprise enough that he almost dropped the bottle of Vodka he had been holding. Jenny was not normally the type to admit that she had done wrong.

But the admission came again, edged with something that might have been anguish if it had been anyone other than Jenny.

"Louie, I fucked up so badly."

The bartender surreptitiously checked the bottle in her hand, trying to make sure that it really was soda instead of alcohol.

"I can't imagine that this is your fault, Jenny," he soothed. "How could you have known that something like this would have happened? Lottie's been faithful, but she's always been a wildcard."

Jenny shook her head as her bottle clinked onto counter. Its label reflected gold with the cheery label of Louie's favorite brand of cream soda.

"It's not Lottie. She was just doing what she knew. I hired her knowing that she could be something of a loose cannon." The woman slumped in her stool, hands rubbing at her neck wearily. "But I should have guessed that something like this would happen when I started this place."

She heaved a sigh, one heavier than any Louie had ever heard from her. It made the pit of his stomach go cold.

"Louie, I want you to leave."

The coldness in Louie vanished, replaced by the heat of a temper that had been rising in him for days. His knuckles were white as he grasped the vodka bottle.

"No, Jenny. I'm not doing this. I told you that I'm sick of sitting on the sidelines."

"I'm not gonna argue with you, Miller. This is too big for you. Hell, this is too big for me, but I'm the one who dug us into this hole and I'm going to do my damndest to dig us out." Her gaze met Louie's with an intensity that might have made a lesser man bolt. On any other day, it might have made Louie bolt, too.

"You can't just shoulder all the blame for this." Anger welled in his tone as he pointed the bottle at the woman. "This is everyone's fight. They're attacking our home turf. The Dive isn't just yours, you know."

Sadness flashed across her features. "I know. And believe me, it means more than you'll ever know that this place has come to mean so much to you all." In a quick motion that left her soda bottle rocking on its sides, Jenny stood. "But I will not allow more people to die for the sake of my own sins."

Louie had the sense to put the alcohol on the mirrored shelf behind him before he turned an accusing finger in his boss' direction. It was a testament to how upset Jenny was that she did not slap it away.

The bartender's voice was low as he spoke. "What sins, Jenny? He's a madman and a killer! Next thing, you'll be blaming yourself for all the car accidents across the next couple of blocks."

Jenny's stare grew cold. "Do not belittle this, Louie. You don't know the depths you're wading into."

Louie slammed a fist onto the bar. Jenny's forgotten soda bottle rolled to the floor. "_Then tell me what the hell is going on."_

Silence enveloped the room. Jenny seemed suddenly occupied with a piece of lint on the edge of her jacket. A hint of hesitation hovered on her lips before she spoke:

"I knew him, Louie. He's…well, he's actually an old friend; got me out of a tight spot a very long time ago." Refusing to meet Louie's gaze, she looked up. "I owe him a lot…and now he's come to collect."

/

_I want to call Shibusen._

As soon as they were on the bike, Maka had deepened the contact Resonance between them. The wind rushing past them was bad enough, but the motorcycle helmets made it impossible for her and Soul to communicate verbally.

_Maka, it can wait. There's nothin' you can do about this tonight._ Soul turned left sharply, just barely making the light.

_But what if she's involved in this more than we—_

_So what if she is?_ It took a great amount of forcefulness to cut off a thought in Resonance, and the link vibrated with the harsh feedback. Soul emanated apologies, trying to soothe the link. _Look, Maka, all I'm sayin' is that we can't just jump in this headfirst. _His soul pulsed with the impression of a smile. _You see how far that's gotten you lately._

Maka sighed. _I'll admit; I'm not at my best right now. Sometimes my emotions cloud my judgment._

_Understatement of the year. _The fondness in Soul's tone was the only thing that kept him from getting Chopped. _We'll call Shibusen in the morning, Maka. For now…let's just get away from work for a while._

She laughed softly. _What, and pick up where we left off?_

_That's a good start._

Maka blushed at the almost sensual undertone of his words. They rode in relative silence, the rushing of the wind and the troubled flow of Maka's music vibrating through the link. She could register it loosely from the feedback on Soul's end—he was trying to catalog the notes of it, trying to commit it to memory so that he might play it back for her someday.

_How often do you do that?_

His end of the link flowed with embarrassment. _Not often. It's just sometimes, when your music is especially…you…that I try to capture it. I dunno._

She tightened her grasp on him, partly due to the chill of the wind, but mostly because she wanted the comforting pressure of his warm back against her. _I think it's sweet. _Their resonance filled with his almost-amused thanks. _How many of them have you gotten?_

_Never a whole song, unfortunately. The closest I got was the music you were playin' the day before we left. Mostly I can just get snippets down. This isn't easy, ya know._

Maka's blush deepened with chagrin, though the sickly light of Chicago streetlamps made it impossible to see. _It's not like I was telling you to play me a concerto. _

Soul temporarily deepened the link so that she could sense his physical body…and the laugh he was having at her comment. Maka wasn't quite sure if it was considerate or rude. Knowing her weapon, it was intended as a mixture of both.

_I know, _he teased, _but maybe one day I will, regardless of whether or not you ask me. _Deep affection flooded the link, temporarily stilling the ponderous and darkened tone of the meister's music. Though silence fell once more, there was something vibrating between them, unsaid but weighing at them both. Somehow the words tumbled out at almost the same time:

_I l—_

_-love y—_

_-you._

And then they were both laughing, deepening their Resonance enough for it to feel as if they were doing so as one. The sensation wasn't as startling as it could have been—after all, it was the same when they were in the throes of battle. It was hard to tell at times who was meister and who was weapon; they often didn't know where hand and haft ended and began.

The motorcycle turned onto the block of their hotel. Though it was late, the streets were still bustling, a strange sight for the two of them. They were accustomed to even the busiest of roadways being dead at this time of night.

_We're like country bumpkins. _Even Soul himself wasn't sure if he made the observation objectively or if there was a hint of grouchiness to it.

_That's right enough, I guess…and we could both use with a little sleep,_ Maka supplied. The thought process, amplified through the link, made them both yawn widely. Soul gave a small nod of assent and pulled the bike into their hotel's parking garage. Its engine rumbled darkly inside the concrete walls as they idled in their parking spot. Soul yawned again.

Maka laughed aloud. _Soul, I think we might need to get you to bed. You look dead tired. _

Soul gave her an irritated look, but he allowed her to switch off the engine of the bike, tucking its keys into her pocket for safekeeping. He groaned as he dismounted the saddle. His meister smiled at this and peered through the curtain of her hair.

She hadn't brushed it since the morning. Dried blood clumped the tips and the hairband that had held her braid together had been lost in the scuffle. And despite its macabre appearance, Soul found himself craving its scent. Winding a hand about Maka's waist, he pulled her close. Maka squirmed a bit, but the thoughts ebbing through the resonance merely expressed discomfort over standing in the middle of the parking garage, rather than by her sudden proximity to her weapon.

"Nobody's coming; it'll be fine." His voice was muffled by the press of her hair against his mouth. Maka pushed against him halfheartedly in response, but Soul could feel the tension draining from her shoulders. In his mind, he could hear the sound of her music mellowing.

Soul inhaled softly, pleased to find that the dried blood did not mask his meister's scent. The edge of a grin split his mouth as he realized that Maka was doing the same.

"How cute," he teased, nuzzling against her neck with a spark of mischief in his eyes. Maka pulled away from him, her expression distinctly no-nonsense.

"Well, do excuse me." Turning on her heel, Maka marched through the lobby doors. And though her tone was prim, Soul could feel her flattered embarrassment. His grin widened and then died down somewhat when he realized that Maka had managed to trick him into having to carry both their bags to the room.

/

"You were supposed to watch her! _You were supposed to keep her safe!_"

Jenny didn't raise her voice often, and it was a good thing that she didn't. Her tone would have driven most men to cower in a corner. It was all Eric could do to stand his ground.

"Ms. Diver, I did my best. I was tracking her as best I could, but she was trying to throw Mack off her trail and occasionally she dropped me, too." He leaned onto Jenny's desk. "You know that if Lottie sets her mind to something, there's nothing we can do. She was your right hand for a reason."

Jenny glowered at the man until he removed his weight from her desk. Eric had a point; Lottie, a rescue from the seediest underbelly of Chicago, was her best and brightest. Keeping her had not only been a personal crusade of sorts, but a very smart tactical decision. When it came to the methodology of keeping out of trouble, Lottie's instincts were simply not to be beat. She'd only sent a small team of backup to follow Lottie in the event that she needed a quick escape. Jenny hadn't expected that even Lottie would fall astray at the hands of Mack.

"Are the girls still looking?"

Eric nodded. "They say that they've got his trail. Mack won't be able to shake them off now."

"How long until we know his location?"

"A couple minutes, we hope. Maybe an hour or two at most." Eric rubbed at his jaw sourly. "Did you make sure that you took care of the contingency plan?"

In any other situation, Jenny might have rebuffed him for the doubt in his tone, but she knew that in this scenario, it was warranted. She tapped at a book on her desk. To anyone who didn't know Jenny well, it might have seemed like an empty gesture, but it was enough to make Eric smile.

"I thought you didn't want to involve them…that the price was too dear."

Jenny arched a brow. "We nearly lost Lottie. No price is too dear."

This statement seemed to perturb the EMT, the smile fading as he tried to defuse the meaning of Jenny's words. He'd never before considered that the woman pandered to a sense of favoritism, but the fire in her eyes sprouted the seed of doubt in his mind.

But he knew that the girls, at least, were safe. He liked them, despite their acerbic attitude, and he didn't want them hurt. If Jenny was willing to enlist the help of some of the witches she knew, then Eric knew that she meant business. He could live with that, even if the woman was too fond of the old mob assassin for her own good.

A knock sounded from Jenny's office door. Eric looked at her uncertainly, but Jenny called out wearily, "Come in, Louie."

The bartender slid quietly into the room, nodding in greeting to the EMT. He held a suitcase in his hands.

"Hey, Louie. How are you holding up?" Eric's question was mostly rhetorical. Louie looked almost as shabby as his suitcase. Despite this, the man smiled, reaching to scratch his head.

"I'm alive…and that certainly has to count for something in light of recent events."

Both men laughed, though the sound was thin and the sudden burst of cheer seemed to wear away at Louie's reserves. His smile fell as he lifted his suitcase up.

"I'm gonna go on a vacation," Louie said, "and get away from it all for a little while. I'm thinking about going to Canada—or maybe Mexico. We'll see what flights head out tomorrow." He nodded towards Jenny. "I stopped by to check in and make sure that I was all cleared to leave.

Eric clapped Louie's back companionably. "I'm glad for you, Louie. Getting out of here is probably the smartest thing you can do."

Louie seemed to flinch at this statement. His hands gripped the suitcase tighter and his mouth thinned. Eric tried to hide his bemused expression.

"You'll tell me if you meet any cute girls, right?"

Louie laughed again, but it was a clipped, humorless bark. "Yeah, I'll give them your number."

Eric grinned and clapped Louie's back again. "Ultimate wingman, this guy. You may have your favorites, Jenny, but I think Louie's one of mine." Stepping back, Eric nodded again in Jenny's direction. "You need anything else?"

Jenny shook her head and took her gaze off of Louie long enough to make eye contact with the EMT. "No. I'll tell you if anything else comes up, though. Call me if the girls find anything."

"I told them to call you directly in case anything happens. I should probably be asking you to tell me if anything happens." Some of his humor drained. "You sure the girls are safe?"

Suddenly looking very old, Jenny nodded. "As sure as I can be in this situation. I've done what I can."

Eric's expression twisted with irony. "I guess that's the best any of us can hope for." He turned to Louie. "Have a good time on that vacation of yours. You look like you need it."

"You're leaving, then?" Jenny looked perturbed, but Eric purposefully ignored it.

"Yeah. I'm going to go get some sleep while I can. Call me if you need me, all right?" The EMT strode through the door much less quietly than Louie had. They waited until they heard the front door of the Dive shut and the alarm system to rearm itself before Louie spoke:

"Everything's in order. I drew out all my funds…contacted the proper people. It will look like I'm heading back home tomorrow." Too exhausted to care for decorum, he sank into one of the chairs beside the office door. The suitcase felt much heavier on his lap than it should have been.

Jenny was silent for a moment, her gaze vacant. Her being lost in thought was enough of a novelty that Louie didn't try to interrupt. Closing his eyes, he listened to the distant ticking of a clock.

A chair scraped across the floor, followed by the sound of soft footsteps. Someone sat stiffly on the chair beside him.

"Do you know where you're going to go?"

Louie didn't bother to open his eyes. Shaking his head, he patted the suitcase. "I've got my passport in here and I have a friend looking at flights as we speak."

"You aren't really going to Mexico, are you?" There was a tinge of humor in Jenny's tone.

"Fuck no. If I'm leaving, I'm going somewhere cold. Preferably with a nice library. I told Eric I was going to Mexico to keep him happy." Cracking an eye open, he turned to look at Jenny. "Why was he so angry? Normally he's not that short with you."

Jenny sighed, leaning back into her chair. "I was a little too forceful with him before. I was angry about what happened to Lottie and he felt offended."

Louie frowned. "You had Eric on Lottie's attaché? No wonder Mack caught up with her. Why didn't you have the twins on her?"

"Because the twins are tracking Mack himself." Jenny's expression looked peeved. "Turns out that today, they were pretty much doing the same thing. But they didn't get close enough to manage to sneak into the interdimensional space."

Louie gave his boss a confused glance. "Interdimensional space? I'm not following."

Jenny seemed weary. "Mack encloses a space and separates it from the rest of the world before he kills someone and takes their soul. It's the reason why the Shibusen kids haven't caught him yet."

Louie made a noncommittal noise. "Do I want to know how you know this?"

Jenny shook her head. Louie smiled.

"Yeah, I figured I wouldn't like it. Do I need to know anything else?"

It was quiet again, but only for a moment. Jenny slowly reached out to grasp Louie's hand. "You mean a lot to me, Louie. The Dive has had you since it opened and you've taken maybe ten sick days in that time. I don't want you hurt."

Louie squeezed her hand and then let his own fall. Companionable silence fell, the only sounds being the regular ticking of the clock and the soft breathing of them both.

A small smile formed on Louie's face. The Dive had always been home to him. In the end, his small apartment had really only been a place to sleep at night. Most of his personal belongings with real value were kept behind the bar. It was easy enough to pretend that he could hear the gentle flow of some soft jazz in the background, crooning vocals muffled by the thick red curtains that hid the office door. Louie could almost pretend that his sanctuary had not been defiled, that he could pull back the curtain and Fitz would be on stage…that Lottie would wink at him as he walked back to his bar.

So many things had been lost and would never be the same again. The Dive stilled smelled like dark wine and perfume, but the magic in the air was gone. It was enough to make Louie want to curl in on himself and quit, but he owed too much to too many people to give up.

He tapped at his suitcase once again, still smiling as he stood. Jenny followed his movements with her eyes, seeming too tired to get out of her chair. But she gave him a weary smile of her own and reached into her pocket, pulling out a wad of bills.

"Take care of yourself, Louie. I don't know what any of us would do without you."

Louie took the cash. "The place would all go to Hell and you know it."

/

Their hotel room was dimly lit by the yellow glow of the microwave light. It beeped angrily as they came in, the words FOOD READY flashing along its tiny display screen. Maka looked at her partner in confusion for a moment, but when Soul softly muttered 'Salisbury steak,' she giggled.

Their Resonance had mostly broken as they passed through the lobby. There was still a tenuous, humming connection between them, but it wasn't enough to share thoughts or feelings. Maka found that she was too tired to try and reforge the connection; all she wanted to do was sleep.

Maka let both of their bags fall onto her bed, sighing in relief as she sank down after them. Soul had put their helmets on his nightstand, but they were too big for the small surface and one of them fell to the floor with a thud. Soul was leaning over Maka's bed, rifling through one of the bags.

The microwave beeped again.

"I'm coming!" Soul growled. He straightened, hitching the bag over one shoulder as he stormed over to the machine in the corner. The light got slightly brighter as he poked the door open button, the warm yellow light flooding the floor. It shut again, the apartment now cast in almost total darkness.

"You hungry?" Soul called, teasing in his voice.

Maka rolled her eyes, despite the fact that she knew that he could not see the motion in the dark. "I'm not eating that, Soul."

"What? It's only a few hours old."

"It's also cold. Blegh. Besides, I'm not particularly hungry."

There was the sound of something sliding across plastic. Maka could hear the grin in Soul's voice: "Well if you don't want it, more for me."

"You're gross, Soul."

Something weighted down the corner of the bed. Soul's voice was suddenly much closer to her than before. "It didn't stop you from falling in love with me." And then he was close, the warmth of his body curling beside her own on the bed. He was careful not to touch her, as if asking permission, but when Maka scooted closer, he wrapped his arms around her shoulder. She felt the press of his forehead against her cheek.

"How is your lip feeling?" A finger tenderly reached out to trace Maka's mouth, circling the scab where his teeth had cut her earlier. The meandering path of his fingers traced out the growing curve of her smile.

"It's fine, Soul." She hazarded at a brief peck on his fingers as they swept past her mouth again. He stopped for a moment, then swept his fingers upward to caress her cheek. Maka hummed in happy approval.

Soul seemed less content. "But I hurt you…." Maka was silent, thinking of a response, but Soul misinterpreted her quiet and pressed on: "My teeth—"

"Your teeth are fine, Soul." Maka gently reached between them and flicked Soul's nose, irritated as he stopped caressing her cheek. The loss of Resonance, coupled with her inability to see Soul's expression, irritated her. It made her feel severed from her partner, despite their close proximity. Head throbbing slightly from the effort, Maka sent out a few questioning tendrils, trying to deepen the connection.

Soul accepted them gladly.

The link was almost overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion—Soul's shame over hurting her, the lurking suspicion of Jenny, the shock and outrage over the events of the day. But there was a comfort between them, and the warm sensation that they could both now identify as love.

Embarrassment tinged both their Resonance and their cheeks, the realization still a little too new for them to face its recognition without a measure of awkwardness. Yet they took pleasure in it, as well, happy to find that they had finally pinned down something that had too often slipped through their fingers like sand.

Maka snuggled closer, pinning Soul's arm between his chest and her own arm. Despite the mild discomfort of suddenly extraneous limbs, there was a deep sense of comfort as their foreheads touched. She hummed again, this time harmonizing with Soul's own buzzing content.

_Do you believe me now? _She accompanied the question with a less brief peck to his cheekbone. Their Resonance amplified the thrill of the stolen kiss for the both of them, almost wearing away the small seed of doubt in Soul's head. But he clung stubbornly to the notion, the darkness wanting to fester. Little Oni's sneering voice echoed in the depths of their Resonance.

Sighing, Maka leaned in to kiss the other cheek. _Soul, I will kiss you until you believe me. _

Amusement made them both chuckle. Soul's tone was wry: _Well, in that case…._

Maka, having caught the basic gist of his statement, cut him off as she swooped in and pressed her own lips tightly to his.

Doubt washing away, Soul's free hand reached to pull Maka closer, tugging at her waist and shoulders. She happily obliged, humming in a sort of victorious pleasure as she swept her tongue along the bottom of Soul's lip. He responded in kind as their Resonance heated.

Their emotions seemed to meld together. The Resonance seemed to take over, inexorable and inescapable…pulling them together with magnetic attraction. Maka gave a small gasp that was matched by Soul's soft groan as their lips meshed.

Their trapped hands shifted, trying to eliminate the sudden barrier that kept them too far apart. Maka nibbled on Soul's lip as she pulled herself into a seated position. He fell back against the mattress. The darkened room concealed the sudden expression of mischief on Maka's face.

The heady press of the Resonance removing all thought of shame, Maka threw a leg across Soul's hips, settling her weight down so that she was straddling him. The sudden warmth of the motion was so consuming that she almost didn't recognize the sudden jolt in the flow of their souls.

Her partner's hands were on her hips, gently trying to lift her upward. A small beam of light that escaped the curtains lit up Soul's forehead, where she could see the furrowing of his eyebrows. Maka stilled.

"What's wrong?" She spoke aloud, unsure if unspoken words would be translated through their stuttering link.

Soul seemed to share her uncertainty, speaking in a strangely husky voice. "I really don't think you should do that, Maka." He tugged at her hips again.

The meister was briefly confused. Though the feedback loop of Resonance had halted, her thoughts still felt slow as molasses, lethargic with the sugar-sweet heat that seemed to emanate from her core. But it wasn't just her—Soul's hips were hot where they pressed against her own.

Realization flashed cold and mercilessly, sending Maka rolling across the bed with embarrassment. Her legs bumped against the bag that still lay on the corner of her bed, knocking it to the ground with a soft thump. The meister covered her face.

The connection between them streamlined and her embarrassment bled over into his. Soul took deep breaths, each breath causing the heat of their Resonance to ebb away. She rang with a soft song of apology, her music muffled. Soul, still breathing deeply in a calming ritual that was beyond Maka's understanding, reached out to pat her shoulder.

"Nothing to apologize about," he murmured quietly. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth. "It was just a little too soon, that's all." Feeling her rising shame, he backtracked. "Well, it's not that it's too soon…more like…" Silence fell. Maka held perfectly still beside him, as if afraid that any move would be the wrong one. Soul growled.

He rolled over onto his side, arms reaching out to pull Maka closer. Her body felt tense as he nestled closer to her. Soul tried his best to keep his awkwardness from flooding the link.

"I'm sorry, Maka…." His voice, so close to her ear, sounded raspy, but he prodded at her side of the link sweetly. He nuzzled her neck. "I just didn't want to make you feel like you had to do somethin' that you didn't want to do."

Maka frowned, but she took her hands from her face. "I was the one who was being stupid, though."

Soul laughed and carefully placed a kiss on her neck. "Normally I'd agree with you. But you really didn't do anything wrong. I'm just…" He sighed. "Well, I'm no Casanova."

Maka was quiet, but her shoulders began to relax. Soul hazarded another kiss on her neck and was gratified to feel the Resonance heat ever-so-slightly. His breathing calmed.

"This is harder than I thought it would be." Maka's murmur was quiet in the room. Soul snorted, arms tightening around her.

"That's for fuckin' sure," he breathed, reverence in his tone as he took in the scent of her hair. "You always seem to know how to prove that I'm not as cool as I should be."

A small smile formed on her face. "You're pretty cool, Soul. It's me that's lame. You know…bookworm, teacher's pet, stick-in-the-mud?" She nuzzled against his arm. "How many variations of uncool things have you called me now?"

She could feel his smile pressed against her skin. "Aw, you know I don't mean it. You're one hell of a cool meister."

"You could have fooled me." Her voice had an air of fake petulance that contrasted the swell of flattery that Soul knew she felt. But he played along:

"And what should I do to prove to you that I think you're cool?"

And Maka turned, the small beam of light from the window briefly flashing across her grinning face as she moved closer to him. "Well, for starters," she whispered, "you could kiss me."

Soul's teeth glinted. "I can live with that."

/

Waiting for phone calls was one of Jenny's least favorite hobbies. In the meantime, she went through the paperwork that had been piling up on her desk, the most basic actions of keeping her jazz club afloat seeming meaningless when her friends and customers were dropping like flies. Though she was not a nostalgic person by nature, she caught herself lost in memories that she'd rather forget.

She hoped that the girls were okay.

They were good kids, but they were rather closed off from everyone else. Their powers were very specialized—once they caught the feel of a soul, they could follow it to the ends of the earth. They didn't even require a sense of Soul Perception—if even a hint of its signature existed, they could track it.

Including spilled blood.

Lottie might have been stupid for trying to take on Mack by herself, but she'd done Jenny a huge favor by injuring Mack when they'd fought. After the space reopened and the ambulance had collected Lottie, the girls would be able to track down Mack.

Normally they worked more quickly than this.

Jenny scowled at the phone as if she could threaten it into giving her the call she needed. Guilt-edged concern welled up in her; if anything happened to these two, she knew that their blood would be on her hands as well. Not only was Jenny running out of help, she was running out of time.

She needed to find a replacement for Lottie. Not as security—she knew that no one could fill all the niches that her 'rescue' had filled—but as a vocalist. Even if Lottie would be discharged soon, it would be a long while before she would be well enough to perform again. Jenny had lucked out when the Shibusen team had a pianist to replace Fitz, but eventually they, too, would leave and she would be out half a band.

The phone rang. Jenny ungracefully grabbed for it, not caring that she knocked half her papers to the floor. She called out in a short "Hello?"

Cecilia, the oldest of the two girls, answered. "It's us. We found him."

Jenny kept her voice clipped, not allowing her concern to bleed over into her tone. "Are you both safe?"

"As houses. I don't think he has a clue that we tracked him."

"You're late to report. I expected you to work faster."

Cecilia sounded frustrated. "I know, I know. We would have been able to track him a lot better if that Shibusen dog of yours didn't keep us away from the alley. We had to wait until the bustle had passed and charm a few of the police officers to let us in."

"Well, with luck, Shibusen will be out of our hair soon enough." She tapped at her desk nervously, eying the fallen papers.

"I hope so. They're a bigger pain in the ass than I expected them to be."

"They're a necessary evil," Jenny consoled. "Do you have the letter?"

There was a brief sound of muttering from the other side of the phone. "Yep. Gardenia's got it in her hand right now."

Jenny sighed in relief. "Good. The last thing we needed for that to go lost. Do you know what you need to do?"

Cecilia laughed. "It's pretty simple. Stick the letter under the door and get the fuck outta dodge."

A curious look struck Jenny's face. "Under the door?"

"Yeah. Dude's staying in some sort of house." The girl's response was matter-of-fact.

"Interesting. In that case, there's a minor change of plans: Before you two skip town, I want you to stop by the club and write down the address for me. Can you arrange that?"

"Yep. We'll be there soon, all right?" Cecilia hung up without waiting for a response. Jenny put the phone down carefully, eyes fixed on her clock.

She prayed that Mack wouldn't call her bluff. She didn't have many cards to lay on the table.

* * *

How many people do I need to thank by now? Geez. You guys are all awesome.

Also, a quick note to those who live in really big cities: I'm definitely not trying to make it seem like people who live in big cities are soulless or uncaring- Louie's perspective relating to the big city is part of his character and definitely not my own opinion on the matter. If I offended, I apologize.


End file.
